Young May Moon

by Sheila Newberry

  The two of them hadn’t talked last night, as May had been already asleep when Paddy came upstairs. He’d turned the light off, but lay awake in his bed for some time, thinking over the day’s events, especially the moment when he felt the baby kicking. I mustn’t let her down, he told himself. I wish we’d got married right away, but I must respect her wishes.

  They sat on the settee, and Paddy drew her close, so that her head rested on his shoulder. ‘I love you,’ he murmured.

  ‘I know you do. I love you, too. D’you realize I’m twenty-seven years old today?’

  ‘You don’t look much older than you did at sixteen. You’ll aways be Young May Moon. I like your party dress! Your favourite green, I see. I’m glad you didn’t bob your hair.’ He twirled a lock of it round his finger.

  ‘The thing about black hair is it seems to go grey earlier. Mum has to dye her hair, but perhaps I shouldn’t divulge that fact!’

  ‘We’ll likely go grey together – me having dark hair too.’

  ‘I wish we hadn’t been parted all those years, but I know you wouldn’t be without Cluny.’

  ‘I’m looking forward to us presenting her with a baby brother or sister.’

  ‘So am I. Paddy, Brigid is the mother figure in her life, but I believe Cluny and I can be the best of friends.’

  ‘Of course you can. Listen – did you hear that? I wondered what other surprises they were cooking up!’

  ‘It sounds like Brigid’s harp!’ May exclaimed.

  ‘Time to turn the lights low, I reckon, and switch on the standard lamp,’ he said, rising to do just that.

  Into the room they came, Brigid and Brendan in their kilts, Cluny in the one worn by her uncle Danny when he was a boy, hoiked up under her armpits and dangling to her ankles. Dog Toby followed behind, wagging his tail, pouncing on the trailing material. Grandpa carried the harp and placed it by a chair for Brigid, then he joined May and Paddy on the settee. ‘Room for a little ’un,’ he boomed, easing in his considerable bulk. ‘Sit on my lap or you’ll get squashed,’ Paddy whispered to May. His arms gently encircled her middle. With perfect timing, the baby began its gymnastics.

  ‘First,’ Brendan announced, ‘The Singing O’Flahertys will lead the company with their rendition of Happy Birthday to Young May Moon!’

  They sang all the old songs, with the addition of one or two more modern lyrics. May requested Tea For Two, and the middle-aged couple before them seemed transformed into the glamorous pair they had been on stage more than ten years ago.

  Then Brendan played his fiddle and young Cluny improvised a dance; more a slipper-shuffle: when she twirled, her kilt dropped round her ankles. May smothered a giggle as she and Paddy recalled her stepping out of the peacock-blue dress, and what had happened next.

  Cluny wasn’t embarrassed; she pulled the kilt up, clutched it with both hands, then danced on, to warm applause.

  Paddy’s whistling ended in laughter too, when Toby raised his head to howl loudly, drowning him out. ‘I didn’t realize it was that bad,’ he said ruefully.

  The entertainers paused for breath, when May requested that her birthday record should be played. ‘I won’t alarm you all by attempting the jig,’ she sighed, with a smile.

  Finally, Cluny performed her party trick; she fetched her hairbrush and brushed her grandmother’s hair vigorously in the dark. Sparks flew, always brighter when red hair is involved.

  ‘Almost as good as fireworks,’ Grandpa said cheerfully. They all clapped the display.

  May managed to keep awake while she waited for Paddy to come quietly into the bedroom. She closed her eyes as he undressed and switched off the light. Then she said tentatively, ‘Paddy …’

  ‘Yes, what is it?’ He stumbled over his shoes on his way round to her bed. ‘Are you all right? The excitement hasn’t been too much for you?’

  ‘No, of course not. It was a lovely evening, just like the End of the Pier Show at West Wick. When you sang Just a Song at Twilight, I thought of dear Jenny and Percy, who loved each other all those years, and I wished we hadn’t let so much time go by.’

  ‘I haven’t sung for years, you know. Danny inherited that talent – it’s good he’s still using it. Well, goodnight. We have to make an early start in the morning.’

  ‘Paddy, I need a cuddle – just that. What about you?’ she said softly.

  ‘It’s a bit late to shift the beds together now, eh?’ His warm breath fanned her cheek, he was getting nearer.

  ‘I’ll make room for you with me,’ she said, and she did.

  Thirty-Four

  July, 1936

  CARMEN WAS READY for the dance studio doors to open and the young ladies, as Evgenia called them, to step eagerly on to the sprung floor and greet each other with air-kisses and gossip, before the music began and she called them to order.

  For the first time since she had last worked, in Spain, Carmen had managed to squeeze into her flamenco dress. The sight of her so dressed, with a flower in her hair, elicited gasps of admiration. She had their undivided attention. The young man who wound the gramophone and carefully positioned the needle on the records, looked on wistfully. He hoped eventually to partner one of the lofty girls, but alas, he had not finished growing yet, and was too short to be considered. Meanwhile, he memorized the sequence of steps.

  Carmen was inspired this evening: the young ladies were in awe of her expertise. The interruption, when Evgenia appeared followed by a swarthy-looking man in an ill-fitting suit, made her stop in her tracks, hands on hips, eyes flashing.

  ‘I apologize, Carmen for disturbing your performance, but, as you will see, I have this gentleman with me, who says he is your husband, from Spain.’

  ‘My husband?’ Carmen spat out the words. ‘No! I am widowed, as I told you. I know him well, he was once my partner in my act. His name is Carlos Rivera.’

  ‘The class must continue – another record please, boy. You should talk in private with this … person, I think, and send him on his way, if he is unwelcome… You may talk in my office. I will watch the action here for you,’ Evegenia said.

  The man said nothing, but waited for Carmen to lead him outside. Carmen sat behind Evgenia’s desk, facing Carlos. ‘Why are you here?’ she demanded, eyeing his dishevelled appearance. He had been so dapper in the days, when … She shook her head at the thought.

  ‘I heard you were in Barcelona, through a mutual contact. I was involved with the Republicans, fighting the Nationalists, but when we heard that Franco was about to return from exile and the Nationalists were promised support from Germany and Italy, many of my comrades were rounded up and imprisoned. I escaped and made my way to where I believed you to be. I thought you were my only hope, and would help me because of Isabella.’

  ‘Where is she? I heard nothing from her foster parents after I went to Barcelona to meet May. We had to leave there very shortly after—’

  ‘I know. The manager at the hotel gave me your daughter’s address in England. It is a long story, but here I am, humbly asking your help. All I have with me is my guitar. I sold all my possessions to enable me to travel.’

  ‘Isabella? You did not answer my question. Is she safe?’

  ‘Why should you worry, when you abandoned our child, just as you did your other daughters? I put myself at risk to bring her with me, to show her that one parent cared for her! She is safe. She waits outside in the taxi, for you to tell us where we can go.’

  ‘Taxi? I suppose you expect me to pay for that?’

  ‘I am penniless, as I said. I – we – throw ourselves on your mercy.’

  Carmen stood up. ‘Wait here. I must tell my employer that I have to leave early. She will not like it, but I must do so. I will take you to my home, but this will be a temporary arrangement. You are, I think, a refugee, Carlos?’

  In the taxi Carmen sat beside the silent child. Isabella, clutching her small bag of belongings, was seven years old. There had been no contact with her mother since she was a baby – whe
n she was considered an encumbrance for her parents, in their performing days. The only family she knew was the elderly couple who had brought her up, despite the lack of regular payment These people, who claimed to be her parents were strangers to her.

  Henry opened the door to them. Carmen had not changed her dress, just snatched up her handbag after a brief explanation to Evegenia. His eyes widened at the sight of her companions, a scruffy foreigner carrying a guitar case, and the little dark-haired child with an unmistakable likeness to May, who now joined him. She’d recently arrived home from work and was upstairs, when Carmen banged on the front door.

  ‘I told him, my dear Henry,’ Carmen said, without explaining who the strangers were, ‘You would give him and the child refuge here—’

  ‘Carlos?’ May interrupted, as she came into the room. ‘Is it you? And who is this?’

  ‘She is your half-sister: Isabella. She does not know us, we … gave her away, at a few weeks old. She does not speak to us.’

  ‘Perhaps she only speaks Spanish. Didn’t you think of that?’

  May, now five months pregnant, bent with difficulty to address the forlorn child. She offered her hand. ‘Come with me, Isabella. I hope you can understand me; my Spanish is rusty.’ She gestured up the stairs at the bathroom. ‘When you have washed, we’ll have dinner. You’ll have to stay tonight for the child’s sake. Mum, you must deal with Carlos. You and Isabella can share my bedroom tonight, and he will have to use your room. Henry, I must apologize on their behalf for this intrusion.’

  ‘We will discuss this in detail in the morning,’ Henry said. ‘Don’t forget that Pomona will be arriving here for the vacation tomorrow. Meanwhile, I will make sure there is sufficient food for all.’

  The child stood passively as May washed her face and hands for her and dried them with a soft, clean towel. She spoke at last. ‘Muchas gracias,’ she said, adding in halting English: ‘Bella, they call me Bella.’

  May drew her close. ‘That means beautiful. I am May, your sister, and I am glad to meet you.’

  ‘Yo amo mi abuelita …’ Tears spilled from Bella’s eyes.

  ‘You love your little grandmother? I understand. You miss your family.’

  May tried to suppress the anger she felt for Carmen – how could she give up her third daughter, just as she had May and Pomona? Why had she never mentioned Bella to them? But we had Jim and Min, she thought, who loved us and brought us up, and this small girl only had someone she called Grandma. Still, it sounds as if her foster parents loved her.

  Henry, kind as always, told Carlos, ‘I will try to get something sorted out with the authorities, who should know of your arrival in this country. Bella can remain here with her mother and her sisters. There should be no problem, because of the blood-ties between Carmen and May.’

  ‘I have had an idea,’ Carmen announced the following morning. ‘I might be able to procure Carlos some work with me, playing the guitar for my dancing class. Pomona will be here to look after the child during the long holiday.’ She did not thank Henry for his generosity, or offer to care personally for her child.

  ‘She has her studies,’ May put in. ‘I shall shortly be working part-time for Tatiana, mostly mornings. I can help with Bella.’ They were sitting at the table after breakfast, and the child reached for May’s hand under the overhang of the tablecloth. May squeezed the small hand reassuringly.

  As Henry left the house for the bank, May having been given the day off by her considerate employer, he remarked to her: ‘Well, it’s quite a houseful for a confirmed bachelor, isn’t it?’

  ‘Dear Henry, you are the perfect host!’ She doubted that the new arrivals would be considerate guests.

  If only I could be the perfect husband, he thought.

  Pom and Bella took to each other immediately.

  ‘Fancy!’ Pomona exclaimed, ‘A sister arrives out of the blue, and May looks very pleased with herself. How about producing a boy for a change, May?’

  ‘I can’t promise, Pom, but I think of the baby as Jim, after Dad. Paddy doesn’t mind, but Cluny rather likes the idea of a sister.’

  ‘I guess Mum is as maternal as ever,’ Pomona said. ‘I shall do my bit by encouraging Bella to speak English before she goes to school in September.’

  ‘Mum will, no doubt, be planning to teach her the flamenco as her contribution,’ May said wryly.

  Later, while they watched Bella bouncing a ball the back garden, they caught up on family news. ‘Seen much of Terence?’ May asked.

  ‘When I can escape the cloisters.’ Pomona grinned. ‘He watched our team rowing, and when we had a boat out on the river ourselves he said I could take over the oars as I was better at that than he is. We still argue, you know.’

  ‘I guess you always will. You obviously both enjoy it.’

  ‘We’ve both left Henry out in the cold. But then, it wasn’t me whom he desired.’

  ‘Not very delicate to put it like that, Pom. Paddy and I, well….’

  ‘You couldn’t help yourselves, that’s obvious!’

  ‘Pom, you’ll understand one of these days, when you meet that special chap.’

  ‘D’you know, I already have. We just needed to grow up, that’s all. We’ve agreed not to, you know, be rash, before we can even think of marriage. Two more years before I graduate, and the same for him, with his apprenticeship.’

  ‘Is that how you think of Paddy and me – that we acted rashly?’

  ‘You have no regrets, that’s what matters. It was meant to be.’

  Carlos had moved to a hostel but, unlike most of the other inhabitants, he had some work. Only part-time, but it was a definite advantage. He supplanted the boy who wound the gramophone in Carmen’s classes, but Stanley continued with his task for the other groups. Carlos actually offered to teach him to play the guitar when he learned of Stanley’s wish to be involved with the flamenco.

  Relations with Carmen were cordial now that Evgenia had expressed her approval of his expertise.

  One day, Carlos believed, he and Carmen would again top the bill, but somewhere more illustrious than the end of the pier at West Wick. Their young daughter had no place in such dreams.

  The new King had planned a holiday at the end of July in the Riviera, in a secluded property with a private beach, but the eruption of civil war in Spain saw many refugees flooding over the border into France. The French government advised against the royal visit.

  On the morning of 26 July, as commandant of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, Edward went ahead with the Anglo-French ceremony at the Vimy Ridge to unveil the memorial to the 60,000 Canadians who had perished during the Great War. He was greeted by many of the survivors, who had fought for the motherland. He was popular with the Canadians because of a visit to North America when he was a young and dashing Prince of Wales.

  This same day, Germany and Italy joined Franco’s struggle to fight with the Nationalists in Spain.

  Thirty-Five

  August 1936

  THE KING’S INVOLVEMENT with Mrs Simpson, an American divorcee, was common knowledge, but since Edward’s accession to the throne the newspaper headlines had changed: the King’s official duties were chronicled, but his private life was now strictly out of bounds. However, the rumours continued. There was important news though regarding rearmament worldwide, and there was a drop in unemployment, as factories became busy once more, and new enterprises flourished. The recession was over at last, but the ugly spectre of World War Two was becoming all too real. Fascism, Communism; it seemed the Spanish Civil War had been the catalyst.

  May had some exciting, unexpected news to share with Henry. She was worried that he’d seemed withdrawn in her company lately. She was aware that he didn’t approve of Carmen’s attitude towards her youngest daughter, or of her mother’s continued presence in his house. Pomona took the hint and after May left work to prepare for the birth of the baby, she decided to spend a couple of weeks of the summer break at Kettle Row, with the Wrights, w
ho promptly invited Bella to accompany her. May wished she could go too, when she learned that Bea, Danny and Terence would also be enjoying a breath of country air with a visit to the rectory.

  May decided to talk to Henry after their evening meal, while Carmen was at work. She sank down thankfully beside him on the settee, for now she was heavily pregnant. ‘I heard from Paddy today.’

  He folded his paper and looked up. ‘All’s well, I hope?’

  ‘More than that! He has been offered a good job with a big marine aviation works! They have a new government contract to build many more bi- and seaplanes, which have wooden floats as well as propellers! Carpenters are still in great demand. It’s not like being in charge of his own business, he says, but the money is better!’

  ‘Is this in Southampton?’

  ‘Yes; there is accommodation available a few miles away, which won’t be a problem as Brendan has said Paddy can borrow his old car until he can afford his own motor, and – he wants me to join him there – to be married now, rather than later.’

  ‘That’s very good news, but what about his child?’

  ‘Cluny is happy to stay on with her grandparents, but we would, of course, have her to stay with us on a regular basis. Oh, Henry, I’m sorry to spring this on you so suddenly, but I’m aware that you have delayed plans of your own because of me and, now, my family. I’m so glad you are happy for me.’

  ‘I didn’t expect this,’ he said quietly. ‘However, I have felt all along that your place was with Paddy. Naturally, I will miss you, May. I can tell you now that I was offered training for the priesthood in September. As this would mean giving up the house and going to a northern college, I didn’t think it would be possible; I’d committed myself to caring for you until after November. Then there was the fact that Pomona thinks of this as her home, and Isabella is due to start school here next month. Let alone the problem of Carmen.’