by Rachel Quinn
By the time they were saying hello to their parents, Aileen felt as though she could be a million miles from Dublin and from Niall. It was a feeling she didn’t much care for, because for the first time in years there was a contemplation of a life without Niall. It was as though any future life with him was slipping from her grasp and she felt helpless to do anything about it.
After the girls had been given a cup of warm milk, and Briana had relayed a few routine stories of how Cathleen and James were getting on in Dublin, they went to bed.
‘Is it Fergus or Gerard who’s snoring?’ Briana whispered as they lay together and held hands.
Aileen lifted her head and aimed an ear at the far side of the bedroom. ‘Both, I think.’
Briana laughed through her nose, causing Aileen to laugh too.
‘At least we can talk without getting scolded,’ Aileen said.
But neither of them did talk for a minute or so, and Aileen could just about hear – between snores – the ocean breaking on the beach.
‘Aileen,’ Briana hissed. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘For what?’
‘I’ve been lying to you as well as Mammy and Daddy. At first I thought you and Niall were made for each other, so I did, but just lately . . .’
‘What?’
‘Well, a small part of me was thinking if you saw him a few more times you’d realize things aren’t so good. For the future, I mean. And I’m sorry.’
Aileen squeezed her hand. ‘You’ve no need to apologize. Without your help I wouldn’t be seeing Niall at all. He might as well be in America already.’
‘I know I was wrong, Aileen. It’s not fair what they’re doing to Niall, and I won’t let you give up on him.’
‘It’s only thanks to you that my dream’s still alive.’
‘Ah, well, in a place like Leetown everybody needs a dream, even if it never comes true. But I hope yours does.’
‘Ah, thank you.’
‘Tis all part of the service of being a big sister. Now, let’s sleep before we wake up Fergus.’
Aileen closed her eyes, but couldn’t settle. ‘Briana?’ she whispered.
‘What is it now?’
‘I think I should apologize too.’
‘Oh, dear God. For what exactly?’
‘I’ve been awful selfish lately. You must have dreams of your own.’
‘Never mind my dreams.’
‘Whatever they are, I hope they come true too.’
‘Thank you. Go to sleep.’
They turned away from each other, and Aileen took a few deep breaths to keep her tears silent. Very quickly her dark thoughts turned to a soft grey, and she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 25
The next day was Sunday. And in Leetown that meant Mass, when the women of the village boasted their best dresses and the men their smartest suits, for Father Kinross expected nothing less. It was a fine morning, the sea calm and the sun as strong as it ever got in October.
The Sweeneys, as was usual for such a pleasant Sunday, separated on the walk back home. Mammy talked with the women about who was ill, who was pregnant again, and the general comings and goings of the village. Mr Sweeney and the boys returned via the pub, where they discussed the politics of the day with the other men, specifically the continuing negative reaction to Éamon de Valera’s offer of condolences to Germany on the death of Adolf Hitler. Somewhere along the way Aileen got separated too, and by the time she got home only her mother was there.
Aileen’s mother always wore something of a haggard expression, but today it was somehow even more weary, incongruous against her best floral dress and cream hat. She was standing at the table, and took the hat off as soon as she saw Aileen.
‘I need to talk to you, Aileen,’ she said.
Aileen paused, allowing her heartbeat to settle a little. ‘About what?’ she asked.
Her mother pointed to the chairs. ‘Let’s sit down.’ She eased herself into a seat, and Aileen followed.
‘You’ve . . . well, you’ve been seen.’ Mammy’s eyes were now focussed, owl-like, on Aileen’s face. Aileen felt the heat of accusation course through her chest, and the room skewed sideways for a moment as if a shot of whiskey had been pumped into her veins.
‘What d’you mean?’ She injected a laugh, as much to calm herself down as anything.
‘Someone at Mass was in Dublin yesterday.’
‘Who?’
‘It doesn’t matter who. They saw you. With . . .’
‘Oh.’
‘Oh, indeed. You’ve been told you’ll not be marrying the man, Aileen. You’ve been told by your daddy you’ll not be seeing him again.’
It was no good. As much as she tried to control them, Aileen’s tears boiled up and erupted. Her mother whipped out a cloth and handed it over. She said nothing for a few minutes as her daughter gathered herself together.
‘Why are you doing this, Aileen?’
Aileen took a deep breath. ‘I love him, Mammy. I can’t bear the thought of not seeing him again.’ She looked up, her eyes roving over her mother’s face, searching for an ounce of sympathy.
‘I do understand, of course I do. But you can’t have everything your own way.’ Her mother let out a sigh. ‘You have to grow up, Aileen. You’ve been told you’re not to see him and that’ll be an end to it.’
‘But why?’
‘Because your daddy said so.’
‘And why should he be the one to decide?’
Her mother paused, struggling to answer, eventually rushing out, ‘That’s just the way it is.’
‘But what about you, Mammy. What do you think?’
‘It doesn’t matter what I think. Your daddy decides on these things and I support him.’
‘And you think that’s right?’
‘Now, won’t you stop this, Aileen.’ There was a hint of a smile, one that seemed to brush Aileen’s feelings aside. ‘Your father deals with the politics, the money and the legal things. I take care of the house and make sure the children are fed and clothed so they grow up to be of use. He and I are as one before God, and you should know better than to think I’d go against him.’
‘So, he decides who I marry and you go along with it?’
‘Aach, he doesn’t decide, Aileen. He knows what’s best for you is all it is. Sure, that man wouldn’t get on with your brothers, and your father has him down as a traitor to the country, so you’d be unhappy with him.’
Aileen said nothing for a few minutes, but bowed her head and looked down. ‘Tisn’t fair,’ she muttered.
Her mother exhaled noisily. ‘I know, but . . .’
As she paused, they both heard a stamping of shoes and angry words outside.
Aileen’s mother sat up, her body suddenly tense. ‘Oh, Holy Mother of God. I’m fearing your daddy’s found out.’
The door front opened a few inches, then juddered as if it had been kicked open, swinging all the way back and smashing against the wall.
‘Ah, Fergus,’ their mother said, her voice now cracking.
He didn’t even look at her, just stared, wild-eyed, at Aileen. He stood there in his Mass suit, looking anything but solemn. Within seconds he was at the table. ‘Is it true?’ he shouted.
‘What?’ Aileen answered.
‘I’m after being told you’re seeing him again, when you sneak off to the Big Smoke with Briana.’
‘Seeing who?’
Fergus slapped both his hands on the table in front of her, and bore down so she could almost taste the beer on his breath. ‘The deserter – the traitor to his own country.’
‘I’m not far off twenty-one, Fergus. I’ll see who I like.’
‘Well, if you do, then someone’s going to get hurt, and twould only be right too.’
Aileen sensed her fear falling away. She stood up and stepped over to him, her face slanted up to meet his, her hands on her hips. ‘Is that so, Mister Al Capone?’
‘The man’s betrayed everyone in this country. He’s
a coward and deserves to be shot like one.’
‘A coward?’ she shouted out. ‘Did you call him a coward?’
‘Ah, don’t pretend he’s anything else. He’s a deserter, a yellow-bellied coward and I won’t have a sister of mine—’
‘Don’t you dare—’
Their mother now stood up and shoved an arm between them. ‘Stop it, the both of yez,’ she said.
But neither Aileen nor Fergus budged.
‘Ah, he’s drunk, Mammy,’ Aileen said, her eyes not moving from Fergus’s reddening face. ‘He’s just drunk and he can’t think what he’s saying.’
‘Oh, is that right?’ he said.
‘Sure, tis. Cowards run away from trouble. Niall ran away to risk his life fighting the Nazis.’
Fergus laughed in her face. She continued.
‘He fought against the Nazis, Fergus, not us. He’s no coward – he’s a braver man than you, and you know it, sure you do.’
‘Ah, so now you’re . . . some little girl war expert now, are ye?’
‘Well, I know more than some do about what’s happening in the world. And don’t be calling me a little girl, ye big eejit.’
Aileen was vaguely aware of her mother trying to separate them again, but the two stayed toe to toe.
‘Well, if you know what’s happening in the world, you’ll know that the whole war thing was an anti-Irish plot by the Brits.’
At that, Aileen stopped, her mouth agape, a despairing smile forcing itself on to her face. ‘Ah, Fergus Sweeney,’ she sang. ‘Won’t you hear yourself, the world’s biggest eejit. Have you not heard about the concentration camps, of what the Germans did to the Jews? Have you not heard about what the Japanese did in the Far East?’
‘Aach, you’re the eejit, so y’are. It’s all propaganda, the lot of it.’
‘Ah, Jesus Christ almighty, Fergus. There’s just no point in talking to you if all you’re going to do is—’
Aileen was vaguely aware of something approaching her face, but could do nothing about it. She felt her neck twist sharply and the side of her face sting with warmth. She gasped for breath. She was, however, fully aware of her mother speaking.
‘I’ll thank you not to take the name of the Lord in vain, my girl.’
The room trembled in Aileen’s eyes, both her mother and Fergus now staring at her, their eyes like hot knives.
‘Oh, Mammy,’ she managed to say, praying that she could hold the tears back, that she could show a little more strength. She failed, and her mouth clammed up. She ran into the bedroom, slammed the door behind her and threw herself on to the bed.
She heard Fergus kick the door. ‘Not so bold now, are ye?’ he shouted out. ‘Ye Black and Tan girl, ye.’
Then she heard another slap, then Fergus again, ‘What was that for, Ma?’
‘Don’t ever call your flesh and blood that, Fergus.’
Then she heard another voice. It was Briana. Was she going to get the same treatment?
Aileen jumped off the bed and opened the door to see her sister standing, confused, at the far end of the room by the outside door.
‘What’s happening?’ Briana said, her eyes darting between her mother, Fergus and Aileen. ‘What’s going on?’
‘And you’re as bad as her,’ Fergus said.
‘As bad as who? What are you talking about?’
Fergus only managed a grunt, but one laden with the same disgust his frown was full of.
‘We know,’ their mother said to Briana.
‘Know what?’ she replied. Then, disappointed, ‘Oh.’
‘Oh, indeed. You can’t have not known, Briana. And I’ll bet it’s been going on for weeks. All those lies to get to Dublin. I’m disappointed in you, so I am.’
Now Fergus spoke again. ‘What?’ he grunted. ‘Weeks?’
Their mother pointed to Briana. ‘This one tricked me, said they were going to see our Cathleen.’
‘I was doing no harm, Mammy.’ She stepped over to Aileen and held her, checking her face. ‘Are you all right, Aileen?’
‘Never mind her,’ their mother said. ‘What d’you think your daddy’s going to say when he finds out?’
‘You aren’t going to tell him, are you?’ Aileen said.
There was no reply.
‘Mammy?’ Briana said.
Fergus let out a laugh. ‘If she doesn’t tell him then I will.’ He jerked a thumb to his chest. ‘And he’ll whip the both of yez to within an inch of your lives.’
Their mother held a hand up. ‘No, Fergus.’
‘But—’
‘No. Don’t provoke your father. You know what he’s like. He’ll—’
‘He’ll what?’ boomed a voice from the doorway.
‘Dan,’ she said. ‘We were just . . .’ She paused, unable to continue as he stomped over, unbuckling his belt.
For Aileen the next few minutes were a raucous blur. She and Briana cowered in the corner. Alcohol-soaked shouts rained down on them at first, then stinging whiplash slaps from the leather. Aileen yelped as blows caught her on the shoulder, then the knee.
‘Dan!’ her mother shouted, her arms on his shoulders, pulling him back, slowing down his strikes.
But this time he was in no mood to obey. ‘Get off!’ he shouted. He cast out an arm, as swift and strong as the wing of a swan, and his wife fell on to the floor.
Fergus knelt down and checked she was all right. Then he stood up and stepped toward his father. ‘Da! Leave it.’
More lashes from the belt rained down on Aileen and Briana, both of them yelping in fear and pain. Aileen had now shrunk to a ball, her arms covering her face, but through her defences she saw the buttons from her father’s best waistcoat straining as he took a deep breath and walloped the belt down again and again.
‘Da!’ Fergus shouted again. Then a flick of leather found its way between Aileen’s arms and caught her on her cheek, the side of her jaw alive in pain. ‘THAT’S ENOUGH!’ she heard Fergus shout. A few grunts, a scuffle, then both men were still. Fergus rubbed his knuckles, Daddy his jaw. Daddy threw his belt down at the girls, his chest still heaving with rage. ‘They’ve had enough, Da,’ Fergus said. ‘Just leave it.’
Aileen and Briana had received the biggest battering of their lives, but it could have been worse. Fergus, of all people, had prevented that.
It was only a few minutes later, with Aileen and her sister rubbing their wounds, that she made any sense of it. Young Frank and Gerard had returned from church with their father, but Gerard had wisely led Frank out of the house and away at the first sign of trouble. When their mother had been thrown down she’d hurt her head on the stone floor, but she was a tough thing, and held a wet cloth to the bruise as she sat on the chair recovering, not even shedding a tear. Their father had struck Fergus, but he’d hardly felt it. When the blow was returned, whether from the shock of his son striking him or the force of the blow itself, the beating had stopped.
The four of them sat. Daddy seemed to have come off worst – in mood at least – just staring down at the floor, his face screwed up in anguish.
‘Thank you, Fergus,’ Briana whispered.
‘Don’t you dare be thanking me,’ he replied in a calm but firm voice. ‘We all know who’s to blame, and I swear as God is my witness, if that man ever comes here again I’ll take a scythe to his legs, so I will.’
Now Daddy looked up. ‘And you’ll not be going to Dublin to see him,’ he said, croaking the words out. ‘Nobody in this family will be going there without my say-so.’
‘Nobody?’ Mammy said.
‘Maureen, I’m . . . I’m sorry I hurt you. I shouldn’t have done that. But I was angry – angry due to this one.’ He threw a finger in the vague direction of Aileen. ‘And I’m standing strong on this principle. Nobody goes to Dublin while that man’s living there.’
‘What about seeing Cathleen and James?’
‘They’ll just have to do the same as our Alannah and Bernard. They can visit or write. And as for you
. . .’ He tossed a glance at Aileen, but it was as scornful as it was brief. ‘You’ll never see the traitor again, and if you go against that, you’re no daughter of ours, and you won’t be welcome in this house.’ He looked up again, his dark eyes swapping between Aileen and Briana, his lip curling. ‘Now get out of the house and give us all a little respite from this nonsense. This is supposed to be the Lord’s day, a day of rest. I don’t want to see either of you for at least an hour.’
Slowly Briana stood up, then Aileen followed, and a few minutes later they’d left their coats and shoes just above the tide and were pattering toward the water. Neither of them spoke until they felt the cold seawater sucking the life from their feet.
‘Heck, this is cold,’ Aileen said, shivering.
‘That’ll be good for your bruises and weals,’ Briana said. ‘It’ll cool them down a little and stop the stinging.’
‘Did he catch you too?’
Briana nodded, then cupped a handful of water and splashed it on her neck. She did the same again on different parts of her body, and Aileen did likewise.
‘Oh, Briana. I’m so sorry.’
‘You weren’t the one with the belt.’
‘No, but . . . I’ve ruined everything for you, so I have. I’ve got you into some rare trouble.’
‘Aileen Sweeney, don’t be apologizing.’
Aileen looked over to her sister and squinted against the sun. ‘Thank you, Briana. You’ve been grand to me. One day I’ll repay you.’
Briana blushed. Then she wagged a finger at her sister. ‘If I’m doing all this work and seeing you through this trouble, don’t you dare be giving up on Niall, d’you hear me?’
‘But I feel so confused. What am I going to do?’
‘We’ll sort something out, so we will. They can’t tie us both to chairs for the rest of our lives.’
‘But I don’t understand, Briana. Why are you doing all this for me? You’ve got yourself into so much hot water over Niall.’