Mother’s Only Child Read online

  Maria wasn’t looking forward to Christmas one bit. She remembered other years when she would help her mother bake the cakes and mince pies, and boil the puddings. The sweet, spicy smell would linger in the air for days and they would sing carols together as they decorated the house with home-made streamers.

  This year there was nothing. She was in no mood for making streamers, never mind finding the time to drape them around the room. She’d had no time either to make up any of the usual goodies and it was hard not to feel depressed about it, especially as there was no news of Greg coming home.

  Then, the Friday before Christmas, 19 December, the men came. Con had visited before quite a few times, but this was every man that Sam had engaged to work in the docks. Many brought things from their wives - mince pies, a Christmas cake. Another brought a pudding, one had a cherry cake, another sausage rolls, while two sent half a dozen fresh duck eggs. Each of the men had a bottle or two in his hand.

  Maria was overwhelmed with the men’s generosity, but just as delighted that they took time to talk with her father. She busied herself bringing out more chairs and getting glasses for them all. Soon a bluish fug of tobacco smoke hung in the air, mixed with the smell of whiskey and poteen. Maria tackled a pile of ironing and listened to the chatter in the room. The voices rose and fell, occasionally laughter bursting into the air. Maria saw how her father’s face was animated and knew she had been right: it was the company of men he missed.

  Maria had given up her lunch hour to search Derry for presents, though the shops were not well stocked at all. She’d posted Greg’s presents early: socks, a scarf, a large bar of chocolate, twenty cigarettes and a packet of the bull’s-eyes he liked so much.

  She also managed to get a soft shawl for Dora, fleece-lined slippers for Bella, and socks and hankies for Barney. For her father she had a new pipe and tobacco and a large bottle of whiskey.

  She expected nothing from Greg but a card, if he was able to get one, so she was intrigued to receive a parcel the day before Christmas Eve. She lifted it down from the mantelpiece where Dora had put it, aware of the woman hovering, as anxious as she was to find out what was in it.

  When Maria exposed the ring box, she felt as if her heart had stopped beating and she slowly opened it up. The ring was a diamond solitaire and so beautiful it took her breath away.

  My Darling, darling Maria,

  I can wait no longer to give you this. I know girls often like to choose their own rings, but I want you to wear this now so that everyone can see your heart belongs to me. I had to guess the size, so if it’s wrong, wear it round your neck till I come home. My beloved Maria, there aren’t enough words to tell you how much I love you and miss you, and how I lie in bed each night and go over and over the time we spent together. I may get leave in the spring—I don’t know. They tell us nothing, but you may be sure I will be hotfooting down to you as soon as I ever can.

  There was more, much more, but the tears seeped from Maria’s eyes as she put the ring on, twisting her hand this way and that so the diamond sparkled as the lights caught it.

  ‘Ah, God, will you look at that. D’you see, Sam?’ Dora cried.

  ‘Come nearer, child,’ Sam said, taking Maria’s hand as she drew closer.

  Maria was hesitant with her father. Maybe he’d be hurt by this sign that Maria was leaving childhood behind; maybe he’d feel his permission should have been asked.

  However, when she said this, her father smiled and squeezed her hand. ‘He did ask me, child, the time he came into hospital, when you took yourself off to powder your nose. He told me he’d loved you from the first time he’d seen you, but knew you were too young for him to speak and wouldn’t have done it just yet if things had gone to plan. Child, I want you to have a good, caring man by your side to share this burden you have taken on. Oh, I know Greg is in the army just now, but the war will not last for ever. He is a fine young man, one to be proud of, and he will make you a good husband.’

  ‘Thank you, Daddy.’

  Maria doubted her mother took in the significance of the ring, but Barney did and he was shocked. He hadn’t been aware the relationship had gone so far in the short space of time they’d had together, for Maria had never mentioned to Barney that she was writing to Greg, nor that she’d taken to visiting Greg’s family.

  ‘Can you not be happy for me, Barney?’ she asked, noting his sullen face.

  Barney could hardly tell her the truth. ‘You’re too young, far too young,’ he said.

  ‘For marriage, maybe,’ Maria said, ‘but this is engagement only.’

  But it was enough. Barney felt sick to the pit of his stomach. ‘I have a present for you too,’ he said grudgingly, ‘though you’ll hardly want it now.’

  ‘Of course I will.’

  Later, Maria looked at the dainty gold locket on the fine chain and thanked Barney with a peck on his cheek, though she wondered if she had been wise to accept it. It was like the gift a boy or man would give to his girlfriend. Surely Barney didn’t think…he couldn’t imagine…He came nearly every night to see her father and that was all, she told herself. He’d never given her more than a cursory glance. He had no one to advise him that the locket was an unsuitable gift, that was all it was. She dropped the locket in the drawer of her dressing table and threaded the ring on the chain, for it was rather large for her finger and she didn’t want to wear it openly till Greg was home and the engagement announced properly.

  There was great jollification on New Year’s Eve at Maria’s house. The men who’d come before Christmas were joined by several others carrying instruments—a fiddle, banjo, accordion and bodhrán. They played the polkas and jigs they’d learnt in childhood.

  Maria joined her female neighbours at the dancing. Then suddenly, as she wheeled around the room, she was caught up around the waist by one of the men not playing. Other men took hold of women until the whole room was a mass of people dancing. Even Bella, Maria saw, was inveigled into getting on her feet.

  Sarah seemed to be enjoying herself as she sat before the fire, a smile playing about her mouth, and Sam’s face was one beam of delight. Eventually Maria stopped, a rosy hue to her face and gasping a little with the unaccustomed exertion.

  ‘Phew, I need a drink,’ she said to Dora, who was sitting by the table laid with goodies.

  ‘Another one has need of a drink too,’ Dora said grimly, indicating Con’s wife, sour-faced Brenda. ‘She has upset half the room and has watched every drop that has passed Con’s lips. Will you give her some stiff glasses of poteen to maybe loosen her up a bit? Anyway, the face on her would turn the milk sour.’

  Maria laughed. ‘Oh, Dora, I couldn’t, and maybe she’d be worse if she had the drink on her.’

  ‘She couldn’t be worse, and if you care about Con at all, do all in your power to get that woman totally bottled,’ Dora said with an emphatic nod. ‘I’ll help you.’

  Maria, Dora, and Bella—who joined in, seeing what they were at—plied the woman with drinks all night. In the end Con nearly had to carry her home. ‘At least she went with a smile on her face,’ Bella remarked.

  ‘Aye, but I wouldn’t have her head in the morning.’

  ‘It is New Year’s Eve,’ Bella remarked. ‘They’ll be a fair few the same.’

  ‘Aye, and one of them my father,’ Maria remarked. ‘Good job I’ve kept my wits about me for I have the feeling Mammy will be the very devil to settle tonight too.’

  Cold and blustery weather heralded 1942. First, there was snow descending from the leaden skies like a blanket of white, the blustery winds causing drifts as high as the windowsills, and piling on the roads to freeze at night, turning the place into a skating rink. The thaw in February was followed by rain, peppering the roads like bullets, driven by powerful winds to hammer on the windows and soak any unfortunate caught out in it in seconds.

  Maria was glad to reach the mugginess and doubtful heat of the workroom. Often her sodden coat, like many others, would steam over
the gas fire in the staff room, especially lit for that purpose.

  The girls all grumbled about the weather. ‘It’s every day the bloody same,’ Joanne said morosely. ‘And the constant grey skies would put years on a body.’

  ‘I must admit, I am fed up constantly feeling damp,’ Maria said. ‘The spring can’t come soon enough for me.’

  But the weather ceased to matter the day Maria got the letter inside the birthday card from Greg, saying there was every likelihood he would get a spot of leave towards the end of the month. That day she had met the postman on the way to the bus stop and read the letter on the way to work.

  ‘What’s up with you?’ Joanne asked as she took her place beside her in the workroom. ‘You’ve got a dirty great smile plastered over your face.’

  ‘I got a letter from Greg,’ Maria said. ‘He thinks he’ll get leave soon.’

  ‘Embarkation leave, is it?’ another asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Maria said. ‘Probably. But I am not going to think of that. All I am going to concentrate on is my Greg coming home.’

  She almost told them then about the ring, but she made herself wait. No one but her parents, Bella, Dora, Barney and Greg’s family had actually seen it yet. Maria wanted to have a bit of a ‘do’ when Greg came home and announce the engagement properly. When she had suggested this in a letter, he had been all for it, so she wasn’t going to spoil it now by telling, or showing anyone. She knew it would be all around the factory by lunch time.

  In St George’s Army Barracks, Sutton Coldfield, Greg was lying on his bunk thinking of Maria and how wonderful she was, when the sergeant strode into the room. Greg leapt to his feet

  ‘Commander wants to see you, Hopkins,’ the sergeant said. ‘What you been up to lad?’

  ‘Nothing, Sarge.’ Greg could think of nothing he had done wrong.

  ‘Well, go and find out quick,’ the sergeant said. ‘Don’t keep him waiting.’

  Greg thought back over the last few days for anything he might have done or said that was bad enough to be summoned by his commanding officer, but he could still think of nothing. Before he announced his presence he checked his boots, cleaning the toecaps with spit and a hanky, pulled his belt in, straightened his tie and knocked on the door with some trepidation.

  ‘Come in!’

  As Greg opened the door and stepped in, the two people sitting in chairs across from the commanding officer turned. The big bullish man Greg had never seen before, but the girl beside him was Nancy Dempsey, a girl he hadn’t clapped eyes on for five months. This wasn’t the Nancy he knew, however. No mischievous light danced behind those black eyes, and there was no sulky pout to the lip. In fact her lip was split right open and her whole face was swollen and bruised. Greg stared at the man beside her with distaste. He had no time for men who raised their fists to women.

  And when Nancy spoke her voice was thick and indistinct. ‘I’m sorry, Greg, really I am.’

  Then Greg noticed something else. Beneath Nancy’s coat was a definite protruding small bump. His head was reeling, his mind screaming denial.

  ‘Well, Hopkins,’ the officer said in clipped tones. ‘Have you any idea why Mr Dempsey and his daughter are here?’

  ‘Yes, sir…I mean, no, sir.’

  ‘What d’you mean, “No, sir”?’ the man demanded. ‘I’ll tell you what, sir. You took my daughter down and now I want to know what you are going to do about it.’

  ‘Are you sure it was Hopkins?’ The question was directed at Nancy, but it was her father who answered.

  ‘Oh, it were him, all right. All over her like a rash last summer and into the autumn too, so her friends said. Then he dumped her like, but not before he filled her belly. She wouldn’t tell me straight off. I had to beat her near black and blue before she let on it were him, like.’

  ‘All right, Mr Dempsey,’ the commanding officer said sharply. He looked at Greg. ‘Do you deny this?’

  He couldn’t deny it, nor say before this bully of a man that Nancy had been mad for it, begging him. He’d taken precautions every time till the time he’d gone to tell her it was really and truly over, and had taken nothing with him. ‘Just one last time to remember you by,’ she’d begged, and then stupidly, because he felt sorry for her, he had obliged.

  He felt sick to the base of his stomach. Almighty Christ, what was he to do? But he knew what he had to do. There was no other course open to him. ‘I’ll marry her,’ he said. Then, because that sounded churlish and unkind, he turned to Nancy. ‘Don’t worry, Nancy, I’ll not let you down. I’ll marry you.’

  ‘The chaplain can do the honours,’ the commanding officer said.

  ‘I must go home first, sir,’ Greg said, ‘to tell my parents.’ But it wasn’t his parents he had to tell most urgently, it was Maria. Maria, that he loved with all his heart and soul and mind, that he had lost for ever. He knew he would be dealing her a terrific blow and he didn’t think he could bear her pain too; his own was making it difficult for him to draw breath.

  The commanding officer surmised a lot by the look in young Hopkins’s eyes, for it wasn’t the first time such a thing had happened. ‘When does your leave start?’

  ‘In two days’ time, sir.’

  ‘Take it from tonight,’ the officer said. ‘I’ll square it, don’t worry. Tell your parents, then come straight back here. It’s best the matter is done as speedily as possible.’

  ‘You won’t lose by it, Greg,’ Nancy said. She was imploring him to look at her with eyes of love and not duty, but Greg was dying inside, shrivelling up. ‘I’ll be a good wife to you, Greg,’ she went on in desperation, ‘and our mom says I’m a tidy cook, like.’

  Shut your mouth, you sodding stupid bitch! Greg gasped. For a moment he thought he’d spoken the words aloud.

  ‘You are dismissed, Hopkins,’ the officer said.

  Tears were smarting in his eyes as Nancy grabbed his hand. ‘It will be all right, won’t it, Greg?’

  He couldn’t speak, not without bawling like a baby. He said nothing, but pulled his hand away and left the room. He went outside the barracks, banged his head against the brick wall and he cried his eyes out.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Despite losing pay, and her anxiety to keep in favour at work, Maria had taken the day off. Greg had told her what time the bus would stop in The Square. He could see her jumping from one foot to the other in excitement as the bus pulled in. He had barely left the vehicle when she launched herself at him, nearly overbalancing him, as he had a case in one hand.

  ‘Oh, Greg, I’ve missed you and I love you so much.’

  Greg just stood and looked at Maria. She cried, ‘Put your arms around me, for God’s sake. It’s what I’ve longed for, for weeks.’

  His heart like lead, Greg put his arms around the girl he loved beyond all others. ‘Maria, we must talk.’

  ‘Of course we must,’ Maria said. ‘Shall we go back?’

  ‘No, not home, somewhere quiet.’

  ‘There’s only Daddy. Bella has Mammy till I go back.’

  Was there nowhere in this whole God-damned place that they could be alone so that Greg could tell the lovely, wonderful girl that he was casting her aside for another? ‘Maria, I need a private place.’

  So did Maria. She wanted to run her fingers through his regulation short hair, to trace the lines of his face with her kisses, and kiss his delicious lips until she was dizzy. And she wanted him to kiss her eyes and her throat in the way that caused her to moan in ecstasy as the yearning excitement mounted in her. Then she wanted to feel his lips on hers, his tongue darting in and out of her mouth, his hands feeling every bit of her.

  Suddenly, she knew the place. ‘We’ll go to the boatyard,’ she cried.

  ‘Is there no one there? Colm…?’

  ‘Colm has the flu. He hasn’t been there the last two days. He sent word down. There’s even a heater there.’

  Greg sighed. ‘That’s the place then.’

  ‘Do you want to
leave your case in the house as we pass?’

  ‘No,’ Greg said. He wanted to go nowhere and make small talk with anyone till he’d told his girl what he’d come to tell her. ‘No, it’s OK, really.’

  They didn’t take the coastal path; the wind was so fierce they’d be in danger of being plucked off it and flung into the lough. Even through the town, the wind gusting around them made conversation difficult, but Greg was glad of it. Maria had linked arms with him and the case dragged from his other hand as they toiled up the slight hill to Greencastle.

  The boatyard was, as Maria had said, deserted, and she lifted the large stone beside the door, extracted the key and let them in. Greg was glad to be out of the wind, but the workroom was icy.

  ‘Wait,’ Maria said, seeming to know her way around the dim room, the light of the day, such as it was, hardly penetrating through the one small window.

  Maria lit both a paraffin lamp and a stove, and then she wrapped her arms around Greg. ‘Keep your coat on for a while,’ she advised, ‘till the room warms up a bit. Then,’ she added impishly, ‘we can take off as much as you’d like.’ She clapped her hand to her mouth in horror at the realisation of what she had said.

  ‘Maria!’

  ‘Oh, Greg, how dreadful to come out with something like that,’ she cried. ‘You must be shocked, think me brazen. I don’t know what came over me.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Greg cried, putting down his case thankfully against an upended boat. The ground was littered with coils of rope and the room smelt of engine oil.

  Maria produced two chairs and passed one over to Greg. ‘Sit down, darling, and tell me what’s on your mind,’ she said. ‘I can tell there’s something.’

  Now they were here, in this ideal place, isolated and alone, Greg didn’t know how to start. He’d rehearsed it enough times. He’d travelled through the night, on train and mail boat, more trains and the bus to get here in the least time possible, but while it was one thing to rehearse his story cold, as if the tale was of someone else entirely, it was quite another to sit and look into the eyes of his beloved and tell it.