Love on the Dark Side of the City

by Kennedy, Thomas

  Nwabata went back into the hut and out of the hot sun. Adizua remained in the shade of the truck and ate his kola, cracking open the nut.

  He understood why Nwabata was being so kind and considerate that morning. Today he had to go into Lagos to meet his uncle. If everything went according to his uncle’s plan, he Adizua would embark on a journey to Europe and Nwabata was worried that she might not see him again.

  Chapter Three

  Jean squeezed the BMW into a space in Donnybrook village. She pressed the button on the key ring lock and the central locking clicked and the lights flashed on the car. With the two boys, her son Darra and his friend John, leading the way, she followed up with the two little girls, one her own and the other a friend, holding them by the hand as they made their way to the Donnybrook Rugby grounds. Today was the quarter final of the junior cup and Darra was playing for Terenure against Mary’s'.

  They were early, as her son had to check in for the match. The man on the gate waved them in free when she explained that Darra was a player. Darra left them and took his gear to the dressing rooms, followed closely by his friend John who was also in the team squad, as a reserve.

  Jean paid the extra admission charge into the stand and went down to the Terenure end. Already a hard core of supporters were in place, warming up.

  Bedecked in Terenure colours, teddy bears, flags, top hats, waist coats and a variety of colourful dress the young men of Terenure, interspersed with girlfriends and sisters, and in ages ranging from six to sixteen, filled out the bottom section of the stand. At the front one had a megaphone and was leading the cheers. T-E-R-E-N-U-R-E, he shouted out letter by letter and they repeated in full voice.

  At the other end of the stand a similar group in Mary’s' colours held sway and they too had their cheerleader with a megaphone.

  The atmosphere was carnival with great good humour and all the gaiety of youth.

  As the crowds arrived they congregated nearest to the side they supported and as the stand filled they mixed good-humouredly in the centre area. Those who did not wish to pay the small fee to the stand spread themselves around the perimeter of the pitch and gathered on the free uncovered seats at the far side, opposite the stand.

  Jean nodded and waved at acquaintances. There were a number of women with young children at the match. They knew each other from school runs and school matches. It was not unusual for fathers to be too busy for school matches. That said, at least half of the adults at the match were men, the old school tie having drawn them to see their former schools in a quarterfinal.

  It was during the brief half time break that she saw Frank McGivney. He came on the pitch carrying bottled water and orange slices for the Terenure team. Her hand went to her breast and her heart fluttered as she had a sudden fright. Then she realized he would not be able to see her in the crowded stand and her tension diminished but her heart was still racing.

  Breathing evenly she had a good look at him. He was still tall and strong, but the past fifteen years had added bulk to his frame and a tinge of grey to his hair.

  God! He was still handsome and attractive after all this time. She could still feel excited at the sight of him.

  The second half started with Terenure resuming the attack. She scarcely noticed the run of the match. She could see him where he had returned to the sideline. As she observed him closely she began to realize he had changed. He was a bit podgy, muscle gone soft, hint of a beer belly and his hair was thinning. He was still very handsome, but she began to get over her fright.

  There was an incident in a ruck. The ball went to touch. She half stood frozen with worry. Darra was stretched on the ground, as was a Mary’s player. The Mary’s and the Terenure sponge men ran on. By the time they got there the Mary’s boy was up, but Darra was moving though still on the ground.

  Frank McGivney was the Terenure man but as he got there first, he gave the Mary’s boy a quick once over. Then he turned to Darra and started sponging the back of Darra's neck.

  Shakily Darra got to his feet. Frank McGivney held him up for a moment and gave him a drink from the plastic water bottle. Darra took the bottle and poured the water over his head, straightened up and was ready to resume the game. The referee blew for a line out.

  Jean sat down again. She felt weak. She wondered had Frank McGivney noticed anything. But no, he was trotting back to his place at the sideline not giving the incident a second thought. Clearly the fact that Dara was his son had gone unnoticed.

  *******

  Jean had taken German and mathematics Trinity College. Frank McGivney was studying for masters in Mathematics at UCD. She was full of the joys of her first year at University.

  Although at that time there was still a residue of the old Protestant, Catholic divide between Trinity and UCD it had not affected relationships between the students. Frank McGivney had met Jean at a Rag ball. She was taken with his gaiety and relative maturity and he with her freshness and innocent beauty.

  He was a mad keen rugby player and he swept her into his social circle. She was up from a small farm in Cavan but he was a well-established Dubliner with wide social contacts. He revealed the world of middle class Dublin to her with the parties, sport and prosperity.

  In the third month of their relationship he seduced her. It was gently done on a weekend visit to his parents 'mobile' holiday home in Wicklow. She had expected to meet his family and he expressed surprise that they had not turned up, saying that their car had been giving trouble. So they had a weekend alone together on the 'Mobile’ holiday park.

  Jean was madly in love with Frank McGivney and did not worry about his motives, rather finding it an Idyllic weekend. He had come to her in the night, naked and beautiful and gentle. He told her he loved her and she had surrendered to the bliss of his arms.

  Retribution came a month later when she missed her period. It was three months past and nearing the end of the final term when she finally told him. Frank McGivney had taken fright; he had a no plans for responsibilities. In a panic he suggested an abortion, and said it had all been just a bit of fun.

  Devastated Jean did not know which way to turn. To arrive home to rural Cavan in a pregnant condition would be a total disgrace, her mother would disown her and her father would probably show her the door. The liberated attitudes of the city had not percolated through to Cavan and the older generation was unrelenting in their conservative attitudes.

  Frank McGivney redefined their relationship at the start of the summer break. He explained that he was off to New York to work for the summer. It was up to her what she wanted to do. They would always be friends and he would see her all right for the cost of an abortion. Disgusted and heartbroken, Jean took the money he pressed into her hands.

  The baby was born hale and hearty in the following December. Jean had used the money to get to London. Jean wrote and told her parents that she had a summer job, as was common practice for students anxious to earn money for the next year’s studies. But Jean had stayed on in London after the summer.

  She had never seen of heard of Frank McGivney again. She named the boy Darra after her grandfather.

  Even in London no one is anonymous. There are Irish people everywhere. Jean’s predicament became known to her family. Her mother wrote her a long and shameful letter and Jean realized she was truly alone in the world.

  ****************

  Movement in the stand broke Jane’s reverie and brought her attention back to the match. It was ending in ragged fashion, the score line nine seven to Mary’s. Jean gathered up the two girls and waved to a few friends as she departed.

  Jean had told Darra that she would wait for in Kielys' pub just beside the grounds. She thought Frank McGivney had disappeared, probably to the dressing rooms to greet the team. But then as she moved out, ushering the children past the Mary’s supporters who were still singing happily at their end of the Stand, she saw him at the sideline. He was talking to a man near the Stand gate and she would have to pass him.
>
  Not daring to catch his eye she spoke loudly to the kids as she squeezed past,

  “Come along, we have to wait in Kiely's pub for Darra.”

  She sensed him stiffen at the sound of her voice but she hurried on, not looking back.

  Jean had just settled into a corner with a gin and tonic and orange for the girls when Frank McGivney appeared. He got a pint of Guinness, looked around, spotted her and came over.

  “ Jean is that you?” His grin was broad and his face lit up. “ I thought it was you I saw after the match. After all these years, how are you?”

  Jean smiled a welcoming smile; she had braced herself as he approached.

  “ Frank McGivney is it yourself. How are you?”

  He sat down and smiled at the girls. “Are these your own?” he asked with a grin.

  “ My very own and there’s two more to come from the match.”

  She was pleased at his surprised reaction. The two girls ignored them, drinking their orange drinks and talking together.

  “ Are you on your own?” she added, “Did you ever marry at all?”

  He laughed, “Me marry? No one has caught me yet.”

  She controlled her cold anger and the desire to cut his throat with her glass. She was silent.

  “ Everything worked out for you then?” He was suddenly serious, eyes looking into hers.

  “ Yes no problem. You know, when I went to London that time I stayed on. With my lack of qualifications I was unemployable, but there was a great demand for Secretarial staff in London. I realized I could start up by getting recruits over from Ireland and I became an Agency. It was tough at first but I made a go of it. As the business grew, I went into business partnership with a Dublin man, Peter Burke. He was in the furniture business and his London office was a customer of the agency.”

  “Excellent,” Frank interjected and took a sip of his pint.

  “Subsequently Peter and I married. Two years ago we decided to move back to Dublin and make our base over here. Peter’s Father was taken ill, quiet seriously with cancer, then Peter’s mother died. The father decided to retire from business. His furniture business has a factory in Dublin, and they sell mainly for export. Britain is the biggest market but they are developing in Europe, what with the euro and the Common market. London is only an hour by plane from Dublin and its better for the kids over here. It’s all working out… How about yourself?” Jean spoke cheerfully but with a feeling that she was talking in a jumbled way, covering her nervousness.

  Frank McGivney wondered should he tell her that he had only realized he loved her after he had left for New York that fatal summer. Should he tell her he had come back looking for her only a week later, to find her gone. Should he tell her how he had hated himself and his cowardice for not taking her when she was his? Should he say he wished he had not been such a selfish moron and pressed her to have an abortion?

  “I qualified as a teacher. After the masters I did the H.dip in Maynooth University.” He said with a smile, adding, “I don't usually do duty at Rugby matches. Today I was standing in for a friend at short notice. Of course I am still having a good time. Never settled.”

  “It’s great to see you again,” he continued nervously, not allowing a silence to develop. “Do you know Jean, when you went to London all those years ago you never left an address where you could be contacted. I wrote to your family in Cavan and asked them to forward a letter to you. Did you get it?”

  She smiled “I'm afraid not”

  Of course she had got the letter but by then it was too late. For her there had been nothing in his letter to give her hope. She had dismissed it as romantic self-indulgent nonsense. Although he had signed the letter ‘Love Frank’, he had never actually said in the letter that he loved her.

  She had been so angry at the tone of the letter. She had kept the letter and still had it. But at that time she had decided not to reply. It was all too painful, and she did not want to explain to him that her catholic beliefs were strong enough to forbid her having an abortion, and that she intended to have the child come hell or high water.

  Of course in his letter Frank McGivney had assumed she was getting over her abortion. He had seemed to just want the fun to start again.

  For her part she was struggling to have the child, surviving by grace of the welfare state in Britain.

  His remark that he had had no way of getting in touch with her surprised her, but on reflection that was probably correct. She had assumed he was in New York. After their break up she had gone to London without a forwarding address, and then had only told her parents the address after she had found accommodation.

  There was a silence. There was a soft look in his face, loneliness as he looked at her. She knew instinctively that she could have him again, if she wanted to. Then she thought angrily. She did not need him. She was attractive and articulate and she could have any man. She belonged to her husband now.

  Darra appeared at the door of the bar, followed by his friend John. Jean spotted him, finished up, stood up and shook Frank McGivney’s hand. She was nervous again, nervous that Frank might discover that Darra was his son. He had abandoned his child even before it was born and she was angry and determined he would never find out that she had not had an abortion as he had suggested.

  “Must go, come along girls. Nice to have met you Frank.”

  She ushered the girls to the door and met Darra and his friend halfway across the bar.

  “Where’s our drink “ Darra demanded, expecting at least a coke for his efforts on the pitch.

  “ You can both get a can in the Supermarket.”

  “Were you talking to that man? He is a teacher. He was helping with the squad today. He does not teach in Terenure, some other school, but he went to Terenure and played on the junior cup squad when he was in school,” Darra asked and explained, as they followed her out.

  “Just passing the time of day while I waited,” she replied.

  The penny dropped, of course, he had qualified as a teacher. Thankfully he was not a teacher in Terenure.

  Frank watched her go. He was surprised at the maturity of the two boys, early to middle teens he surmised. It was such a small world. After all these years, her children turning up at the College where he had gone to school himself. She must have married soon after she went to England. Four children he assumed, and a husband. He was glad she was settled, and looking well.

  Frank McGivney looked at his hand, where she had touched him. He kissed the spot. He had had many women since but had never loved again. He sat silent for a while sipping his pint.

  The encounter with Jane had deepened his sense of loss. If only he had been more determined to find her. But then, she must have married soon after she went to London, so perhaps she had never loved him.

  Looking at his watch, he finished his pint. Better to get home. His mother would have dinner in the oven.

  But as he went home the sense of loss stayed with him. He really wished he had married and settled down. Of course he still had fun, but soon he would be forty, he was getting on a bit. Still better single than unhappily married.

  Maybe one day, maybe one day soon, he’d move out on his own, into his own place. Of course it would break the Mammy’s heart, now she was a widow and the rest of the family had married and moved out, he was all she had.

  Chapter Four

  Samuel trimmed his moustache in the mirror and then stood back to look at himself. Not bad, he thought, for a sixty five year old. He was in good shape, five foot eleven, slim and fit for his age.

  Today was another day. A moment’s depression clouded his expression, but he shrugged it off. Instead he smiled. He'd had these moments since his wife died.

  When cancer called, Samuel had a bad health patch through to his early sixties. Fortunately they had caught it in time and he recovered after treatment. In Sunnyside Homes his health came round. Samuel met and made friends with the other inmates. He didn’t really go for the women. They were a
ll a bit old and he did not want another relationship. So he socialized with them, but avoided complications.

  The few men in the home stuck together. He had teamed up with John and they had great crack together.

  Sunnyside Homes for the retired was situated in Ranelagh, in off the main road in a discrete side street. It was a convenient location with the Ranelagh shops and a good bus route into Dublin city centre. However Sunnyside Homes did have one drawback. The food, they had gone mad on health food. Salads, fruit. Samuel liked his porridge in the morning, but figured that was health food enough.

  He had gotten into the habit of going to a small Cafe in Ranelagh, a couple of times a week, for a cup of tea and some Egg and Chips. Samuel figured that at sixty-five food was one of the best pleasures left and he wasn’t going to eat monkey nuts to live a few more years. He was happy with his innings and wished it to go on, but he was going to have his fried eggs and chips.

  The nurse at the main desk was grey haired, fat cheerful and about fifty. Samuel tipped the rim of his hat in salute as he walked past out the door. The nurse smiled at him and she wrote him out in the book. Regular as a clock, she thought. He went out the same time every day; she could set her watch by him.

  Samuel’s son Peter had made clear arrangements to pay for his accommodation. He had refused to live with Peter and it was clear that his wife Jane was not falling over herself to take him on.

  He had a comfortable inexpensive life style and was happy with it. In his lifetime he had accumulated a number of properties as investments, but he chose to ignore them, handing the management over to a reliable agency, and the money just accumulated in the bank.