Her siblings were to fare no better, their pleasure at seeing him rewarded with a smile of lesser value, the younger ones’ request for a bedtime story receiving short shrift.
‘Oh, I’m a bit tired tonight, lads,’ was all their father murmured abstractedly, as he gulped down his tea. ‘Maybe somebody else’ll oblige.’
‘I’ll read you one,’ a kind-hearted Dominic told his little brothers. But it did not escape his notice that Father seemed not too tired to go out again.
The moment Niall walked into that pub his spirits miraculously soared. However, they were soon to plummet, for the object of his dreams appeared not to have missed him at all. She was chatting to some other man when he went up to the counter, and seemed reluctant to tear herself away, until the landlord prompted from the other end of the bar, ‘Eh, missus, are you going to serve Rockefeller?’
Smirking at Mr Langan’s pun, Boadicea came up to enquire of Niall, ‘The usual, is it?’
No apology, no how are you, even. Cut to the quick by her indifference, he nodded and placed the correct money on the bar. She served him as politely as she would anyone else, then wandered back to her previous conversation partner. Niall carried his pint to a table, pulled out a stool and sat with his back to her, inwardly sobbing with anger and frustration. Before he knew it his glass was empty. Against habit, he took it back to the bar for a refill.
It was the landlord who served him this time, affecting great astonishment. ‘Another? ’Struth! Don’t tell the taxman I’ve doubled me profits.’
Niall gave a sour smile, but accepted the teasing in good part, and, instead of returning to his table he remained at the bar to share a few desultory words with Mr Langan, cheered up slightly by the latter’s humorous ancedotes. Soon, though, the landlord was called away, and with no one to entertain him, Niall took a self-conscious sip of his beer, put down the glass and stared into its depths, his heart aching.
‘I feel a bit responsible.’
He knew it was her but did not glance up. ‘For what?’ he asked dully.
‘Driving you to drink.’
He could have said don’t flatter yourself, in fact he did consider it, but he was not so openly rude, and he liked her too much. Oh God, how he liked her, and how it hurt that she didn’t care for him. And so he said nothing.
‘Do you always sulk when women turn you down?’
He did present his face then.
Taken aback by the intense sadness upon it, she flinched and appeared repentant. Still he did not reply. This was not a man for games. A glint of compassion in her eyes, Boadicea weighed her words carefully. ‘It isn’t that I don’t want to go out with you personally, just that I’ve made it a rule never to go out with customers. If I do it for one I’d have to do it for another.’
Niall continued to stare at her unhappily, feeling no better at learning that she regarded him as just another customer. ‘So why didn’t you just tell me that there and then? I’d rather be told the truth than all that palaver …’
This stung her to irony. ‘Like the palaver you fed me?’
Niall forced himself to remain calm. ‘If you’re on about me being married—’
‘Don’t kid me you’re not.’ She showed disbelief.
‘I used to be, but my wife died.’
‘Aw, God, I’m so sorry!’ Boadicea’s face was momentarily distorted, and she covered her mouth, imagining how difficult it must have been for him. ‘And me accusing you of such indecency! She must have been young … how long is it since ye lost her?’
He was ashamed to say six months, didn’t want to see those sympathetic eyes turn hard and to hear her say you don’t waste your time, do you? Hence his reply was ambiguous and his gaze downcast. ‘Oh … a fair while now.’
‘Still, it’s awful! I hope you’ll accept my apology.’ She formed a quick, sad smile. ‘Sure, I always seem to be apologising, don’t I?’
‘Ah well, no harm done,’ murmured Niall, lifting his eyes to her again.
‘You’re very gracious.’ Even now she remained annoyed with herself. ‘After I treated you like that, not even granting you the chance to say otherwise …’ She shook her head in self-punishment.
Forgiving her everything, Niall took advantage, smiling warmly as he said, ‘Does that mean you’ll reconsider my invitation?’
She looked at first amazed. ‘You still want me to go out with you after that?’ Then, at his keen nod, she became flustered. ‘Well … I would, but you see …’
‘You don’t go out with customers,’ he provided.
‘No, yes, no, what I mean is—’
‘Some might say I deserve to be exempt from that rule, having putting up with such injury.’ How daring that was for him to say!
Her attempts to explain were stilted. ‘’Tis awkward … you don’t really know me…’
But this only gave Niall further encouragement, for it was plain from her expression and the lack of an outright no that she very much wanted to say yes. Now it was he who was the better orator, his tone calm and reasonable and kind. ‘I thought that’s why people went out together, so they can get to know each other.’
‘Sometimes you never really get to know a person.’ In the course of those few moments, despite her apparent attraction towards him, Boadicea seemed to have become inexplicably edgy. ‘Anyhow, what I really meant was, you’ve no idea what you’d be getting yourself into.’
‘I won’t know unless I’m granted the chance.’ From the way she had uttered her latest remark, and her determination to hold him at arm’s length, Niall got the strong impression that she had been hurt by someone; could see a struggle taking place behind that fair visage. He was about to reassure her, but just at that moment a customer slammed his glass on the other end of the counter and bawled for a refill. Apparently relieved at being rescued, Boadicea swiftly excused herself and hurried away.
Niall continued to watch her closely, denouncing his former lack of confidence as he did so, for he saw now that although she did use that smile of hers to great effect on others, her eyes did not behold them in the way they did him. And so, for once undeterred, he was content to bide his time while she rushed about and pretended to be busy. If he had to stand there all night he would have a positive answer.
This he told her after she had been compelled to return to the vicinity, unable to ignore his signal for a top-up. ‘If I have to drink meself to death in order to get your attention then so be it.’ Encouraged that she did not immediately dismiss him, he leaned nearer to her, conscious that he might be overheard, issuing his plea in a low earnest murmur. ‘Just give us a chance. Then if you decide you don’t want to go out with me again I’ll gladly stand aside – well, not gladly, but you know what I mean.’ He wondered if she did know what he meant; if his roundabout bumbling fashion had been sufficient to let her know how he truly felt about her.
Somehow, it must have struck a chord, for she too leaned forward to whisper, ‘Look, Mr Doran, I like you—’
His face and spirits brightened considerably, though his voice was gruff. ‘I like you, an’ all. And me name’s Niall.’
But she sought to temper any excitement her remark may have caused. ‘– so I’m going to tell you something and I’m not sure you’ll feel the same afterwards.’ She waited a second, checked that no one else could hear, then whispered, ‘I’m married.’
Immediately she saw his shocked eyes go to her ring finger. With the thumb and forefinger of her right hand, she rubbed self-consciously at the denuded digit. ‘I took it off when he left me. I don’t know where he is and I don’t care.’
‘I knew you’d been hurt!’ Niall exclaimed.
‘Ssh! Nobody else knows, not even the people I board with.’
‘Why? It’s none of your fault. I’d say he’s the one to blame for running out on you.’ Niall found himself full of hatred for the one who had got there first.
‘I just don’t like people knowing my private affairs,’ whispered Boadicea firm
ly.
‘Neither do I.’ Still shaken, but pleased to find something that they shared, he confirmed, ‘They won’t hear it from me.’
She smiled and tilted her head in appreciation. ‘But now you can see why I’m not really free to walk out with you or anybody. Much as I’d like to,’ came her sincere addition, her eyes endorsing this as they held his face.
Searching them, he pondered her answer for a while. In fact he was not to say anything else on the matter, for Boadicea was taken from him again. When she returned he had almost finished his pint. Deep in thought, mainly ones of jealousy, he emerged to ask, ‘What will you do if you never see him again?’
She shrugged, took up a cloth and wiped spills from the counter. ‘It’s no loss.’
Niall shook his head. ‘No, I meant it’s not much of a life being on your own.’
Instead of identifying with this statement she exclaimed with a smile, ‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that. Sure, I’m happy enough with the folk in my boarding house.’
He kept his voice low, their conversation interspersed by the sporadic thud of darts into a board and occasional applause. ‘So you’d never contemplate marrying anyone else? I’m not hinting or anything!’ he hastened to add with a laugh. ‘I’m just interested to know, being in a similar position. Even if you were free—’
‘Never,’ she said adamantly. ‘Once bitten and all that.’
Stricken by bitter disappointment, Niall wondered if this showed. ‘Still, it can’t feel good knowing you’re tied to somebody, yet not married in the real sense.’
‘Marriage isn’t for me,’ she said with certainty.
It hadn’t been for him a couple of weeks ago. How swiftly could one’s life change. Desperate, utterly consumed by his need to possess her one way or another, he exclaimed, ‘Tell you what! How about coming out with me just as a friend then? We both know where we stand. I can’t see it’d do any harm and we like each other’s company – least I think we do,’ he ended with an embarrassed laugh.
She hesitated, probing his eyes warily, before replying, ‘I suppose so …’
‘Next week?’ Having rationed himself to one night out per week, it might look suspicious to Nora if he were to start making regular outings again. ‘What day?’ He half expected another excuse.
But no. ‘I’ve got next Monday evening off,’ she told him. ‘In fact every Monday evening from now on ’cause they’re changed my hours.’
Niall’s heart soared in triumph, and though he tried his best to disguise this for fear of scaring her away, his face appeared brighter than she had seen it for weeks. ‘Do you like the pictures?’ At her enthusiastic nod, he began to list the options. ‘There’s Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi at the Rialto – or maybe you prefer Greta Garbo?’
‘No, give me a good fright any day.’ She cocked her head knowingly. ‘I see you’ve already checked to see what’s on. I admire your confidence.’
‘I wasn’t confident at all, just hopeful.’
Her eyes were warm but stern. ‘Remember we’re just friends.’
‘Just friends.’ But his gut was taut with excitement.
‘The Rialto it is then.’
He grinned his delight at the venue so easily being agreed. Then, with a care as to who might see them, he added, ‘Shall I meet you outside? It’ll have to be second house ’cause I’m working away and I sometimes don’t get home while seven.’
‘That’ll be grand,’ smiled Boadicea.
And the deal was struck.
Niall could hardly believe this was happening – would refuse to believe it until she was standing there outside the cinema – and he bade himself not to become overexhilarated. Even so, there were plans to construct. For a start he would need more than his usual pocket money from Nora. Without wanting to explain what the extra amount was for, he took it from his wage packet on Friday before handing it over. The slightest hesitation as she opened it showed that she had noticed the packet had been tampered with, though to his relief she did not remark on it.
Then there was the question of his whereabouts. Having allotted Monday as his night out there would be no trouble getting away, but with two films and a newsreel to watch, he would be out much longer than usual. Whilst he laboured on the railway line, he was to mull over a list of excuses. But why not be truthful? At least half truthful? It wasn’t illegal for a man to go to the pictures on his own and that was what he would let them assume.
Having made that decision, his next concern was what to wear. It bothered him that he could not dress in suit and tie, and he fretted over this as he donned these for Mass on Sunday. But there was much more to bother him that morning, for this was no ordinary Sabbath. Only the most thick-skinned of men would have enquired what ailed the children, who sat all misty-eyed and forlorn in preparation of their trip to church. Where others would offer flowers and prayers of gladness on this, Mothering Sunday, Honor, Dom, Juggy, Batty and Brian would only be reminded of their still raw loss, and Niall’s heart went out to them, knowing how empty was this festival for those without a mother. His eyes pricked with tears when Juggy was the one to articulate her own despair and that of her siblings. ‘I wanted to make one for you, Gran,’ she murmured sadly, as she examined the cards on the sideboard that had been sent by Nora’s daughters, ‘but, ’teacher wouldn’t let me. She said we could only make one for our mothers …’
Everyone looked round as Honor rushed outside. Not knowing what to do, a concerned Niall glanced at Nora, but she shook her head as if to say leave the child be.
Whilst the boys hung their heads, Juggy turned her attention back to the cards. ‘I told her I didn’t have a mam any more – Mary Kelly put her hand up, an’ all – but ’teacher said it wasn’t called Grannying Sunday and those of us who didn’t have a mam could do jobs instead, so I had to bash the chalk out of the blackboard duster.’
‘Stupid bloody woman,’ muttered a tearful Harriet to her mother, as she turned away to put on her hat.
Niall was angry too, but his voice was soft as he bent over to address his little daughter. ‘If you want to make your mam a card,’ he said firmly, ‘then you can. And this afternoon we’ll go on Low Moor and pick her some flowers and lay them where your mam’s put to rest.’
‘Will we see her when she’s had her rest?’ came the hopeful query from Brian.
‘No, son, you won’t.’ Niall shook his head and, straightening, he chucked his youngest with sad affection before turning away.
‘Away now,’ said Nora in a gruff voice that betrayed deep emotion. ‘Let’s get to Mass.’
Whilst the women put last-minute touches to the youngsters’ appearance, Niall wandered outside to where Honor lingered miserably by the front window. A dejected figure in her grammar school uniform and beret, she remained with eyes downcast, so as not to see her friends with their bunches of flowers.
‘It’ll get better,’ he murmured, trying to convey in his manly way that he understood how it felt to lose one’s mother. ‘I know you won’t think so at the moment, but it will. And when it does, you’ll feel guilty for laughing or whatever …’ The face beneath the school beret looked up at him then, giving away a hint that Honor had already experienced this sensation. ‘But you shouldn’t,’ he added quickly, ‘because your mam wants you to be happy. Still … it’s only fitting that you’ll feel sad today.’ He placed a helpful hand to steer her. ‘Come on, you and me’ll set off and let t’others follow.’
As they walked, Honor was quiet for a while, before blurting, ‘I feel guilty about something else, Dad.’
Niall looked down at her, his face kind and quizzical.
‘I can’t tell you what it is. It’s too awful.’ She was obviously racked with conscience. ‘I can’t even tell Father Finnegan at confession, but if I don’t …’ Her face told what would befall her.
Niall was becoming worried, but had to coax this out of her with a gentle squeeze of her shoulder. ‘I can’t think you’ve done anything so bad—’
But her father seemed relieved it was not worse. ‘Don’t think too badly of yourself, Honey. Your gran’s old; she’d probably wish exactly the same thing.’
Taught by nuns, Honor remained anxious. ‘But God knows all the secrets of our hearts …’ She saw the look of shock that pulled her father up in his tracks.
Niall recovered his step quickly, but felt totally wretched, for if Honor only knew, his own secret was so much worse. It was one he had to live with, but his child did not. ‘Yes, He can see into your heart and He can tell it’s a good and pure one, and that you didn’t mean it,’ came his words of comfort, he desperately trying to draw comfort from them himself as he assuaged his daughter’s worry. ‘He wouldn’t punish you for wanting to keep your mam alive. I’m sure of it.’ Whether or not God would punish him for imagining Ellen dead, was another matter. Try as he might to allay his child’s fears, to convince her of a merciful Creator, the doctrine that had been impressed upon him both mentally and physically from childhood caused him to fear for his own soul.
However, it seemed to help Honor. Appreciating the firm pressure of his hand on her shoulder in its navy blazer, she did not look up but took reassurance in the love of her one remaining parent, and, leaning into Niall’s steadfast presence, she accompanied him to church.
Despite his having reassured her, all in all, it was a melancholy day for Niall, the trip to the cemetery where his children laid flowers on their mother’s grave overshadowing all thoughts of Boadicea.
Not until he removed his clothes for bed did he allow her to steal into his mind again. Placing the suit on a hanger, and giving it a gentle brush before putting it away and climbing into bed gingerly so as not to wake Brian, he was reminded of his thoughts upon donning it that morning, and before he fell asleep he wondered again if there was any way he could wear it for his date tomorrow night.
Secrets of Our Hearts Page 10