The Girl From Paradise Alley (ARC)

by Sandy Taylor

  I liked living in the convent, I liked the peace and the gentleness of the sisters who were all very kind to me. In the mornings I helped the nuns. I polished and scrubbed and prepared food in the kitchen – it was the one thing that I could do to pay for my keep and to thank them for their kindness. Sometimes I would sit at the back of the chapel and listen to them singing, their voices blending together, old and young, filling the small space with the hymns of my childhood.

  I spent a lot of time in the little chapel, which brought me comfort. It was a small place and plain. The walls were bare, nothing more than whitewash painted over lumpy plaster, and the windows were small, too narrow and high to look out of, but big enough for the sun to shine through. It moved around the chapel at different times of the day. I liked the light best in early afternoon, when shafts of sunlight fell onto the floor at the front of the chapel, making patches of brightness just in front of the simple wooden cross that hung above the small altar. I found it soothing to sit with the shadows behind me and the light in front of me. The chapel was warmest at this time of day too. I’d light a candle and place it amongst the other burned-out candles, the little sea of wax that had melted and solidified again, on the shelf beside the chapel door. The flickering candle flame symbolised life and hope. It was tiny and fragile, the slightest draught would have blown it out, but it was resilient: it wanted to burn, it clung to life.

  I visited Eddie every day and lived for those afternoons when I could sit beside him in the silent room and read to him. As long as I could hear him breathing and see his chest rise and fall beneath the white sheet then I was at peace and full of hope.

  I prayed to Jesus to let Eddie live. ‘You brought Lazarus back from the dead and you turned water into wine, so I know that you can work miracles. Please look kindly on Eddie, because even though he’s not a Catholic, he’s a good, kind boy and I know you’d like him. He doesn’t deserve to die, Jesus, so could you please look down on him in his hour of need and save him.’

  One afternoon when I went into Eddie’s room, his eyes were open and he looked right at me. ‘Oh, Eddie,’ I said, ‘you’re awake.’

  ‘I knew you’d come, Nora,’ he said, smiling sadly.

  ‘I’ve been here every day,’ I said. ‘But you were always asleep.’

  ‘I heard your voice but I thought that it was just a dream.’ Eddie’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I won’t ever walk again, Nora.’

  I could hardly bear to think of what Eddie was feeling. To never walk again? To never feel the grass beneath your feet or kneel down in the garden and dig the soil. My heart went out to this dear boy. I held his hand. ‘But you’re alive, Eddie, and you have to have hope.’

  ‘But I’m no use to anybody.’

  ‘Yes, you are, you are still Eddie and you’re loved and needed. I need you. I thought you were dead and I was heartbroken, but you’re not. You have a lot of living to do and I’ll be beside you and we’ll visit the garden together and we’ll watch the flowers grow. I won’t leave you again.’

  Eddie turned his head away from me. He didn’t speak for a while, then he said, ‘And how will I get to the garden?’

  ‘We’ll find a way,’ I said.

  The last thing I’d put in my bag before I’d left home was mine and Eddie’s favourite book, The Secret Garden. I thought the book might give me comfort. I was so glad that I did, because now I could read to Eddie. The next day I started: ‘When Mary Lennox was sent to Misselthwaite Manor to live with her uncle, everybody said she was the most disagreeable-looking child ever seen.’

  Reading seemed to give Eddie some peace; he often fell asleep, but I kept reading. When he woke, he would say, ‘What have I missed?’ and I’d go back and read it again. We had both read the book before but it was the kind of story that never lost its magic. I’d always felt sorry for Mary, who had lost her parents and her loving home in India, and been transported to a strange cold house on the moors, where she received no love or pity. There had been times when I thought that Eddie was unloved in that big house – Kitty had said that no one seemed to care for him. But it seemed that Caroline cared – maybe Eddie was the only person she did care about.

  I read to Eddie every day, I poured water for him when he was thirsty and pulled the curtains when the sun was too bright for his eyes. Some days his mood was very low but I kept reading even though he didn’t speak to me – the sound of my own voice gave me more comfort than the silent, sterile room.

  I tried to write to Joe but I didn’t know what to say to him. We had always found it so easy to talk to each other and even our silences were warm and full of love but that easiness had gone. My world had shrunk to the white room and the narrow bed where Eddie lay – I seemed to have no space in my heart for anything or anyone but Eddie.

  Dublin, the bookshop, Josie, Molly and Ellis seemed a million years ago. Sometimes I closed my eyes and tried to remember Joe’s face but I couldn’t quite see it. It became blurred, not solid, no particular feature stood out. I tried to remember the feel of his lips on mine but I couldn’t. I knew that I loved him and that he loved me because that is what we had told each other, but in the time that I was away, the actual feeling of that love escaped me and that frightened me, because I had been so sure that Joe was my future. The only worry I had had was where we would live, but now it seemed like a kind of dream, the thoughts of someone else. My place was with Eddie until he didn’t need me anymore.

  I’d been living at the convent for two weeks when I walked into Eddie’s room one afternoon and his bed was empty. The sheets had been removed; the little pebble had gone from the bedside cabinet. My first thought was that he had died and I hadn’t been beside him. I could hardly breathe. I ran back into the corridor, sobbing and calling his name, bringing a nurse running towards me.

  ‘Is he dead?’ I said. ‘Is Eddie dead?’

  She led me gently to a chair and sat down beside me. ‘Hush now,’ she said. ‘His aunt took him home this morning.’

  Thirty-Nine

  ‘I have to see him, Mammy,’ I said. ‘I have to.’

  Mammy held my hand. ‘Caroline Bretton had no choice but to let you visit Eddie in the hospital but I very much doubt that she will let you anywhere near the house.’

  ‘Isn’t there anything I can do?’

  ‘The only thing I can think of is to ask Father Kelly to write to her on your behalf. Although I have to say, I don’t think it will move that cold heart of hers. She has her nephew where she wants him and she’ll have no interference from the likes of us.’

  I knew Mammy was right, I knew that Caroline Bretton would make sure that I never saw Eddie again.

  ‘Will you go back to Dublin?’

  ‘I don’t know, Mammy.’

  Mammy smiled at me. ‘You were happy there, Nora, you could be happy there again.’

  ‘How can I just leave now, when Eddie needs me?’

  ‘Let’s hope that a letter from Father Kelly might just soften Caroline’s heart and allow you to visit. Stranger things have happened, Nora. I found you, when all my hope had gone, so let’s not give up just yet.’

  Father Kelly agreed to write to Caroline Bretton, citing that I was, after all, Edward’s half-sister and therefore entitled to visit him.

  ‘I don’t hold out much hope though, Nora,’ he said. ‘The Brettons’ money gives them power and if she is determined to keep you away, then I fear there is little that anyone can do, but I’ll do my best.’

  I thanked him and decided to walk out to Minnie’s to see Kitty. Minnie and Kitty welcomed me with open arms.

  ‘My sister said that you are an asset to the shop,’ said Minnie. ‘And a pleasure to be around.’

  ‘I love working there. Your sister allowed me to come home and she told me not to worry about anything. She was very kind to me, Minnie.’

  ‘And why shouldn’t she be? You’re a grand girl.’

  ‘Could you manage without me for a while, Minnie?’ said Kitty.

 
‘Get yourself away, I’d say you have a bit of catching up to do.’

  ‘Thanks, Minnie,’ I said.

  Minnie opened the glass cabinet and took out two iced buns. She put them in a bag and passed them across the counter.

  ‘Thank you, Minnie,’ said Kitty. ‘I can always eat a bun.’

  ‘You can always eat anything,’ said Minnie. ‘It’s a wonder you’re not the size of a house.’

  ‘I run a lot,’ said Kitty, grinning.

  We walked across the road to the beach and sat down on the flat rocks.

  ‘Your mammy told me you were in Cork visiting Eddie. How is he doing?’

  ‘His back is broken, Kitty. He will never walk again.’

  ‘That’s desperate sad, I’m so sorry, but why have you come home?’

  ‘Caroline has taken him back to Bretton Hall and I know she won’t let me see him.’

  ‘Will you go back to Dublin?’

  ‘I don’t know. Father Kelly is going to write to her and try to persuade her to let me visit him.’

  ‘I can’t see her doing that – she’s the spawn of the devil and has no kindness in her heart, especially where you are concerned.’

  ‘That’s what I think too, but I don’t want to leave him. I promised him I wouldn’t.’

  We sat on the rocks eating our buns and looking out over the sea. Dublin was a grand city and the Liffy was a fine river but I’d missed this. This was my town, the town I’d grown up in. Sitting beside Kitty reminded me of when we were children, when we ran everywhere and attended all the funerals, giving them points out of ten, before we left childish things behind us.

  It’s a pity we can’t give life points out of ten, but we can’t, because life is about people, not about whether they are wearing their good shoes or Sunday hat. Life is about love, and how could I compare Kitty to Molly, Josie and Ellis and how could I compare my love for Eddie against my love for Joe? The truth was, I couldn’t.

  ‘And what about that lad of yours, Joe? Don’t you want to go back to him?’

  ‘That’s what’s troubling me. Part of me wants to see him but the other part wants to stay close to Eddie. If I run back to Dublin, I’d be leaving Eddie behind.’

  ‘Maybe you don’t love Joe the way you thought you did.’

  ‘Sometimes I can’t even remember his face,’ I said, ‘and that worries me as we had become so close.’

  ‘Well, that doesn’t sound like true love to me, Nora, and anyway, Eddie’s your brother – you can’t love him the same as you love Joe.’

  ‘I don’t, but…’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘I think that my loyalty lies with Eddie. I think he needs me more than Joe does.’

  ‘Have you explained that to Joe? If he’s as nice a lad as you say he is, maybe he’ll understand and he’ll wait until you’re ready to go back to him.’

  ‘That’s the problem, Kitty. I haven’t really explained anything much to him.’

  Kitty finished her bun and stood up. ‘Well, you should, or he’ll be looking for another girl. How would you feel then?’

  I thought about all the lovely things that Joe and I had done together. I remembered how it felt the first time he held me in his arms, when we danced under the twinkling lights and the first time we kissed as the snow fell around us. Then I tried to imagine him in the arms of another girl, taking her home to visit his family above the bakery. Maybe that would be the right thing for him to do – I couldn’t just expect him to wait for me when I didn’t know myself when, if ever, I would return to Dublin. And yet I wasn’t ready to let him go and I knew that that was selfish.

  ‘I don’t know how I’d feel,’ I said.

  ‘Let’s take a walk,’ said Kitty. ‘You need to clear your head.’

  We walked along by the shore; it was good to feel the warm breeze on my face and to hear the waves breaking over the pebbles at the water’s edge. The beach was almost empty but a woman was walking alone, with a thin black dog at her side, and two men were pulling a wooden boat up onto the shingle. Above us, seagulls spun and wheeled high in a blue sky threaded with white clouds. It was all so familiar to me; the give of the sand beneath the soles of my feet, the smell of the sea and seaweed, the brightness of the sunlight catching the tips of the waves so that I had to squint my eyes to look out to the horizon. There was a ship out there, dark against the sky, but I couldn’t make out any of the details on account of the glare. I wondered if it was going away or coming back. It was impossible to tell.

  Strange how two things that were the opposite of each other could, when the sun was in my eyes, look exactly the same.

  Maybe that was what love was all about – maybe loving one person didn’t diminish your love for another, with or without the sun in your eyes.

  Forty

  It was a perfect summer’s day; the sky was blue and cloudless and the only sounds were the birds twittering amongst the branches as I walked through the woods. I’d needed to be alone; I’d needed time to think. I kept walking until I came to the bridge that spanned the Blackwater. This place had always given me peace. I sat on the bank and watched the river flowing by and the patchwork of lush green hills on the opposite bank, sloping down to the river’s edge. The little cottages scattered about the hills looked like doll’s houses, waiting to be played with. This river had been a part of my life for as long as I could remember. I was so used to seeing it that I’d taken its beauty for granted but today, I thought how lucky I was to have grown up in a town that sat at the edge of one of God’s most beautiful creations.

  I crossed the bridge, skirted Granny and Grandad Collins’s house and started to climb the hill. The sun was hot on my back as I climbed and I remembered another day when I’d climbed the hill with Kitty because she wanted to see Finn Casey. It had been summer then too, with a sky as cloudless as today. I wondered for a moment what Finn was doing now. Kitty had never received the longed-for letter, but she was happy and Tommy Nolan had taken Finn’s place in her heart.

  I was sweating by the time I got to the top of the hill, so I lay down on the soft grass and let the warmth of the sun shine down on my face. I could have stayed there all day. A fly landed on my bare arm, its tiny feet tickling my skin like the softest of feathers. I sat up and watched it fly away, going this way and that, as if it couldn’t decide where to go to next, a bit like me really.

  I looked down at the Lameys’ cottage. I shaded my eyes and watched Rosie cantering around the field, the sun glistening on her back as she ran. I thought about poor Mrs Lamey, who was now a widow, grieving for her dead husband. Part of me thought I should go down and tell her how sorry I was for her loss, but my heart was so full of my own sadness that there was no room left for hers.

  Father Kelly had received a letter from Caroline Bretton and as we expected, she had refused to allow me to visit on the grounds that Eddie needed peace and quiet and they had all the help they needed. Caroline Bretton was never going to change her mind and there was nothing I could do about it except think about Eddie and pine and worry.

  Today, my mind was full of thoughts of the little garden. It had grown and flourished under Eddie’s tender care, but without him there to look after it, what would become of it? Could the flowers survive on their own? I doubted it. There was nobody to make sure they had enough water, or sunlight, or to check that they weren’t being eaten by aphids. Without anyone to take care of the beds, weeds would be free to run riot; they’d strangle the more delicate flowers. I imagined the beautiful roses being slowly choked by brambles snaking over the old stone wall, and nettles growing in the gaps between the cornflowers and ivy and hogweed and other invaders sneaking in to take the places of the plants that Eddie had tended so carefully.

  And it wasn’t just the flowers. Nobody was looking after the bench or the wall or the pond. If the pond became choked with falling leaves, the fish and the newts would suffocate and die. I could hardly bear to think about it: the poor garden, abandoned and desolate and lef
t to its own fate until, in time, it would be as if there had never been a garden there at all.

  All the work Eddie and I had done would have been for nothing. I wondered if the little robin missed us as much as I missed us being in the garden together. I wondered if Eddie, or anyone, would ever be in that garden again. It was time for me to leave and go back to Dublin, there was nothing left for me here – only sadness for a young boy who would never walk again.

  Mammy was in the kitchen when I got home. She looked at me as I came through the door and smiled. ‘You’re going back to Dublin?’

  I nodded.

  ‘I think that you’re doing the right thing, my Nora. Life doesn’t take into account how sad we might be, it doesn’t stop because we are grieving for someone we love. The sun will keep shining and the flowers will keep growing, and hiding away here isn’t going to change that. This will always be your home, but maybe Dublin is your future.’

  I went upstairs and started to put some clothes in my case. I was feeling hopeful and remembering the good times, working in Finnigan’s and sharing digs with my friends, but most of all I was remembering Joe. I knew that Eddie would be well looked after, even if I couldn’t be with him. Not seeing him was something I had to accept – there was no point moping around the house the way I had been. Mammy was right, life would go on and I had to get on with mine.

  Stevie came into my room and looked at the bag. ‘You’re leaving?’

  ‘Sit next to me,’ I said.

  Stevie sat down and I held his hand. ‘I have to start living again, Stevie. There are some things in life that we can’t change, however much we want to, otherwise we just go over and over things, all the what ifs. What if I had never gone to Dublin? What if Eddie had never been in that car? I know that’s silly, but the mind can play silly tricks on you, and that could drive you mad. So, although I don’t want to leave you, I have to get on with my life and know that what happened to Eddie was not my fault or God’s, or poor Paddy Lamey’s.’