It had been a while what with work and all she would console herself knowing full well there was absolutely no excuse in the world apart from the fact that she hated the place.
The thought of being buried in the clay gave her the creeps, spiders and whatnot!
June missed them both so much, she could still hear Nan pottering around the kitchen, would ask if you were okay sometimes and by the time you would turn to answer sure she had gone polishing some other corner muttering away to herself, “Sure yer grand, isn’t it well for ya, being young.”
Growing up in Nan and Pop’s house, being reared as their own was something June would be eternally grateful for.
Now, had Valerie stayed around who knows it might have worked out okay too but there was something about the older generation. They always had time, something nowadays seemed a rarity, people are always rushing, about June thought including herself. In Nan’s time, it was more important to sit and have a chat.
Chapter Thirty-Six
June had promised herself a long time ago that she too would give her children time, that’s if she ever had children of course, a possibility that was beginning to look bleaker by the minute these days, her clock was ticking very loud, very loud indeed.
She remembered Pop used to say,
“Que será, será. Whatever will be, will be.”
She too believed that, “What was for ya, wouldn’t go by ya,” a great old saying of her old pop. Even after all this time, she still missed them.
Mrs Carey, usually a friendly bubbly woman, today seemed very quiet, not herself at all.
June watched as she folded her pension neatly into her purse with a worried look on her face. She’d known Mrs Carey for a long time now. “Betty,” she would often say, “My name is Betty, don’t be calling me Mrs Carey,” as June always called her in handing her the pension.
June wasn’t one to pry, but she did seem awfully sad not at all her usual self. “Are you okay, Mrs Carey?” she put her arm around her shoulder, a frail little woman but very hardy always.
“It’s a curse,” she said with a shake in her voice, “Money. ’Tis a curse girl,” June didn’t know what to say, was she having a hard time keeping up with the bills? Would she offer to help her out?
She didn’t want to insult her at the same time but she had to do something. She brought Mrs Carey into the back room, it was about time to close up anyway.
That was another thing that was completely out of character with her today she was always in to collect her pension first thing, she was the last customer today!
Mac had gone on another of his business trips, seemed to go off like that a lot lately, June wasn’t sure if she should be worried about this or not but today she was concerned about Mrs Carey, she would think about that another day.
“Thanks June. You’re a very kind girl,” June smiled and offered Mrs Carey a chocolate biscuit to go with her tea.
“I don’t mean to pry Mrs Carey, but you were so upset. Is there anything I can do to help you out, a few pounds maybe?”
Mrs Carey smiling now among the tears replied, “Oh my dear, you are so kind. If only, that was the problem. Sure I will never live to spend what our Ollie left to me when he passed on.”
Ollie it seemed was a brother of Mrs Carey’s that worked all of his life in America and never married, came home a couple of years earlier to die and left a small fortune to his only sister, Mrs Carey.
“No lovey,” Mrs Carey continued, “It’s far worse than being short a few bob I’m afraid, far worse. My heart is broken girl. My heart is broken.”
As June listened to this frail old lady speak of the shame of her grandson being involved in a robbery, she thought to herself, she was not missing out on having teenagers in this world.
“You see,” Mrs Carey continued, “I suppose the signs were there, that’s what’s breaking my heart. Maybe if we had done something earlier, maybe.”
She went on to say that for a while now things had been going missing in the house, little things, but eventually she realised it was always when her grandson had stayed over.
They lived a bit away and whenever her daughter worked late (she was nursing) she would ask Mrs Carey to have her grandson to stay over. Her daughter didn’t like to leave him on his own since his dad had long since gone.
A long story she’d said her daughter had given him the door.
Not going into too much detail, June suspected they had parted on bad terms, reading between the lines and judging by the look on Mrs Carey’s face.
“You don’t like to accuse anyone, ya know? My goodness especially not one of your own, and he was so well reared that fella. Never wanted for anything. Sure he only had to ask,” Mrs Carey having settled a bit by now, got up to leave.
“I’m sorry June, I’m holding you up,” June assured her it was no bother at all.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“You know,” turning back as she went to the door Mrs Carey still with tears in her eyes continued, “I did ask him once, when money had gone missing on me, had he taken it. Now I knew he had to have because apart from myself there was no one else in the house. Unless it was the fairies,” she sort of smiled, “June he convinced me that he didn’t take it. He was so convincing that you would have to believe him. It scared me.”
“I suppose I should have told his mother then but it’s a very hard thing to do to accuse your own, very hard indeed. They’re all I have in the world, I didn’t want to be falling out with them.”
She was indeed heartbroken, June thought to herself as she locked the door behind her, wished her well and told her to try not to worry too much.
On top of it all then, she was feeling guilty that maybe if she had told her daughter about her suspicions she might have nipped it in the bud and avoided his getting into worse trouble.
Now he was serving six months in a correction centre, locked up at fourteen years of age. What kind of future would come out of that experience, June thought.
In her time, a good clip round the ear would put an awful quick stop to any wrongdoing and you wouldn’t do it a second time either.
Why should this poor old woman suffer with her conscience over a grandson who, if he ever had an ounce of affection or respect for the woman, wouldn’t do that to her in the first place.
There was something awfully wrong there.
June thought, she pitied the woman but there wasn’t a blessed thing she could do to help her, it is very hard to see the bad in someone you love.
She remembered Matt talking about his mother, how she had suffered at the hands of his father through drink and violence and yet she’d stayed with him scarred both physically and mentally. We are a very weak species, June thought, when it comes to affairs of the heart.
She wondered how Matt’s mother was these days, and she wondered about Matt.
June heard the screech of breaks and ran to the window, she’d been tidying out the old wardrobes in Nan and Pop’s room putting the best of what she’d found in bags for charity.
Some of Pop’s clothes still with the tags on, dear old Pop never one for style but every birthday and Christmas Nan would buy him a new shirt and a cardigan without fail and only the best would do.
Paid through the nose for them too, she wasn’t one for the city, did all her shopping in the drapers down the road.
Sure Pop would tell her not to be buying for him, “Who’s going to be looking at an old codger like me?” he would say opening the parcel and winking at June.
June remembered picking daisies in the field with her pop and giving them to her nan on her birthday, that was many moons ago now, couldn’t recall ever giving Pop a present but she must have she thought.
It was the milkman that had screeched on his brakes outside, a woman was stood in the middle of the road but from the window, June couldn’t make out who it was or what had happened, she would run and see if she could be of any help.
By now a small crowd had gathered, it
was Mrs Beatty, she’d walked right out in front of him the driver said, “Couldn’t avoid her,” he was very shaken he took his jacket and folded it under her head.
She was pale as death and trembling but at least she was alive June thought, she could have been killed.
Nancy was still standing in the middle of the road, June took her by the arm and led her onto the path.
“My God, June, is she dead?”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
June taking a trembling Nancy to a nearby window sill to sit her down, told her not to fret and that everything would be all right. Someone had rung for an ambulance from Tilly’s and it would be there shortly.
Not sure herself, if everything would be fine, June hoped she was right but for the moment it was a bit of consolation for the poor woman’s friend who had just been chatting to her outside the church after mass.
“I should go and get Mr Father Mulcahy,” Nancy had up and gone before June could answer.
Going about their business in such a professional manner June watched as the ambulance men took such care in moving Mrs Beatty, they seemed to put her at ease straight away. Still well shook looking but more at ease, she held her hand to her head as they carried her to the ambulance on a stretcher.
News of her condition wasn’t so good as it came after a few days, she had injured her spine and would not walk again, a few short moments and your life is changed forever!
Walter was in a state as he went on to tell June what he had heard, “My good God, that poor woman.”
Mac looked shattered as he returned from yet another business trip, June thought. She wanted to ask him if everything was okay, she didn’t know what was wrong but his face was full of sadness sometimes, a look of loss in his eyes.
Not the type to talk about his private life, June decided she would leave well alone and get on with her work.
There was certainly a mystery behind this man!
“June, could I ask you something?”
Had he read her thoughts, maybe caught her looking at him “Yes, of course. What is it? Everything okay?” continuing to pack the cigarettes on the shelf as if only mildly interested (as if) she was only dying to hear what he had to say.
“Did you ever know a man called Roger Atkins around these parts?”
Shrugging her shoulders June replied, “No, name doesn’t ring a bell. Should I?”
Mac now sitting on the counter twisting his keys around his finger, “No, doesn’t matter. Listen you doing anything later? Fancy a drink at Tilly’s?”
Agreeing to meet her there Mac jumped off the counter and was gone out the door, one of these days, June thought to herself, that counter is going to give!
‘Roger Atkins’, never heard any mention of anyone of that name around these parts, she thought and sighed as she locked up to go home, another day over.
Tilly’s was quiet for a Saturday night, had Mac not asked her to meet him she would be tucked in beside the fire herself she thought, it was a miserable night for the fire and a good book.
“Quiet here isn’t it?” Mac got up to get a drink when June arrived.
It was cosy though, a nice turf fire and candles on the table, not ever a busy pub, Tilly’s was a place to have a drink before one would hit the town for a night out, but June liked it.
A little old fashioned compared to some in town but always welcoming and sort of homely.
Turned out to be a good night, quite enjoyable. Had a few laughs and as Mac walked her home June thought he was in better form much more relaxed than earlier. But that could be the drink too, she thought.
Putting the kettle on for a cup of tea, June was chatting to Mac who had now strolled over to Pop’s old chair to make himself comfortable.
“Tea or coffee?”
Must have nodded off, she thought when she didn’t get an answer, taking the tea to the table she was stopped in her stride as she noticed Mac with his head in his hands, bent over in Pop’s chair. “Mac? Are you okay? Mac?”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Without opening his eyes, he held her as she knelt on the floor beside him and sobbed and sobbed, after what seemed like an eternity he sat up and had a sip of tea, “I’m sorry June, it’s such a mess.”
Maybe she would just sit there and he would eventually talk, she didn’t want to pry.
“Mac. If there’s anything I can do,” she asked emphatically. Holding her hand, the tears still wet on his face Mac nodded and got up to go.
Turning round at the front door, he hugged her so tight that she wanted to cry herself.
“Come back inside Mac, talk to me please.”
Mac sat on the stairs inside the door, he had sobered up very quickly, June’s heart was breaking looking at him but she had to keep a face on.
“I was married, June. Oh, it was seven years ago now. We were very happy. Thought we were together for life,” pausing for a moment he continued, “to make a long story short, we went on holiday, made up a foursome with a good mate of mine and his girlfriend—current girlfriend,” he paused again. This time his face filled with anger. Turned out his wife, Freda, had been seeing this ‘good mate’ of his for months after they returned from holiday, was his now ex-girlfriend that enlightened him.
“Stupid, naive, idiot that I am I never spotted it. Never spotted it, June. It was going on in front of my eyes and I never spotted it.”
“I’m so sorry Mac.” What do you say, June thought.
They had split up and hadn’t had any contact since, Mac had bumped into a friend of Freda’s while in town a while back and she had told him of Freda’s situation.
She had moved in with her new-found love only to find that within a couple of months he’d had another fancy piece in tow.
“I know she’s no longer my concern, but it’s hard, you know. She’s in a bad way it seems, drinking, late bars, bad company.”
Putting her arm around his shoulder, June thought to herself, He still loves this girl, then out of the blue he kissed her.
It was a very passionate kiss, she was aware he was in a very vulnerable state and she was merely a shoulder to cry on.
He’d talked and talked through the early hours.
As she watched him go, June thought to herself, Freda, you fool, some people don’t realise when they have it good.
He was a fine man, and he really loved that girl.
After Matt, June had told herself she was better off out of the relationships department and she was beginning to think she was right, though there were days when she took some convincing, life on your own could be lonely at times. Love for all its ups and downs made you feel alive, a part of something. There were days when she longed for that and then there were days when she was just grand.
“Morning June,” Mrs Mac closed the door behind her, “Goodness, would skin a cow out there today.”
It had turned very cold over the last couple of days.
“Just passed by the chapel there was a squad car outside. Strange, right up to the front door too it was.”
June so enjoyed the little chats with the folk round here, nosey as hell some of them but all in good nature.
“Hope there’s no one taken ill or anything now. Keep telling poor old Nancy there. Sure there’s no need for her to be running down to mass these mornings and her not hardly able to walk sure. What sin is on her? What sin is on any of us for that matter, all we want is to be able to look back and have no regrets as they say, isn’t that all,” disappearing behind the freezer department Mrs Mac was still chatting away and not a sinner listening to her.
Chapter Forty
Christmas came and went, weeks of hustle and bustle, community get-togethers, decorations, buying in supplies like there was going to be a famine, and cold, cold mornings.
Icicles hanging in places June had never seen icicles hang before, there was obviously a leak in the ceiling over the door in the post office, there had to be water surely for icicles to form! It was the coldest winter she could
remember.
“Hi Walter.”
With his head hung low Walter took his cap off and handed June a letter, “Come in. What’s up, what’s this?”
“’Tis bad news, June, terrible news.”
Taking his cap she guided him to the chair, he seemed somewhat disorientated.
“’Tis young Matt, he’s gone June. Killed crossing the road only weeks after he left it seems. ’Tis all there in the letter.”
June felt numb, “What. Oh my God. It can’t be.”
Still holding the letter in her hand, she found herself sitting on the stairs, not remembering how her legs carried her there.
They talked for hours, seemed Matt’s mother had found Walter’s address in Matt’s belongings that had been posted on to her by his landlady after his death.
Full of compassion and empathy towards Matt’s family. She seemed a very kind lady, Matt’s mother thought.
Seems he’d just found himself a job and was staying with another lad sharing a room, the landlady had said hoping to make it in the big city.
She’d had a letter from him the week previous, with his usual concern of her situation at home, hoping everything was okay. The awful news had come to her by phone, she said she’d realised when she heard the American accent on the phone that something was up, she’d hoped he hadn’t got into trouble, but never expected to hear what she was about to hear.
His travel insurance had paid for the cost of bringing him home to them, otherwise Matt would have been buried among strangers.
On their income, it would have been out of their reach financially to bring him home.
The whole village had turned out to support them in their loss, but Matt’s dad had taken to the drink, this time to be the cause of him getting a stroke and losing his walk.
It had taken her all this time to come to terms with writing this on paper, she had made many attempts, she knew Walter had been a good friend to Matt and he had a right to know, she still had many very bad days.
One Chance Page 8