Niall flashed a relieved smile of gratitude. ‘Shall I bring the kids?’
‘Well, seeing as they’re the only reason I’m even bothering to talk to you, yes,’ grunted Sean, as he moved to be on his way. ‘Whether Emma will is another matter. Better bring your lady friend, an’ all. I’ll need to give her the once-over to make sure she’s the right sort.’ And with this sarcasm, he splashed away.
By the time Niall arrived home that night, he had chosen to delay the announcement of Sean’s invitation to his children. Knowing they would relay this to their grandmother during Sunday’s visit to the cemetery, he preferred that Nora did not hear of it just yet, at least not until he had been able to cement the reunion with a visit to his brother’s house, for Nora would do all she could to spoil it if forewarned.
But it wasn’t only Nora who would be unhappy about the reconciliation. As Niall arrived with Boadicea and his offspring at Sean’s door the following Sabbath, he saw that the chestnut-haired Emma was far from pleased about it either. He supposed that was to be expected, after what he had put her husband through. Her smile for him was manufactured, as he was shown into the living room of a house similar in size to his own, yet much more desirable, and both these facts caused to make him feel awkward.
‘You’ve got a front garden,’ he pointed out unnecessarily, kneading his hands, after first shaking hers. ‘Bo’d love a house like this, wouldn’t you?’ He turned to the one with whom he felt most comfortable, his eyes remaining on her, as if for reassurance.
Emma was smiling much more kindly on his fair-headed companion. ‘I’ll show you round later if you like – not that it’s anything posh.’ She gave a self-effacing shrug, to which Boadicea responded with a compliment. But when Emma’s eyes returned to Niall they lost their sparkle, and threatened a very uncomfortable afternoon.
Even the children did not know how to behave after fifteen months of being incommunicado with their uncle. Invited to sit down, they left the chairs for the adults and settled in a well-behaved circle on the carpet, from where they offered the occasional shy smile at Uncle Sean, and the aunt they had not previously met.
‘Well, shall we have a cup of tea?’ Emma addressed this, as all her comments, at Boadicea, hardly looking at Niall, and she appeared glad for this opportunity to escape.
‘Shall I help?’ came Boadicea’s offer.
‘Yes, go on then.’ Emma smiled at her, then cast a glance at the children. ‘Is pop all right for you kids?’ With their bright nods, she and Boadicea went to the kitchen.
‘Good to see the blessed rain’s stopped,’ commented Sean, looking out of the front window. Having had a week to think about the situation, he was to be politely amicable towards his brother. ‘I might manage to get into the garden tomorrow, tidy all them leaves up. Everything’s so soggy, isn’t it?’
‘Aye, it’s all dying back …’ Niall continued to rub his hands, and followed his brother’s gaze. Both were conscious of the gulf that remained between them, and it was difficult to know what to say, their faltering exchange further inhibited by the youngsters’ presence. Though in the respect of breaking this uncomfortable silence, Sean was to find his nephews and nieces useful. ‘So, what have you kids been up to?’ Receiving only a collection of shy, smiling shrugs, he added, ‘I suppose you’ll be at grammar school now, Honor?’
The thirteen-year-old offered her uncle a nod, then lowered her eyes and went back to her thoughtful tracing of the pattern on the carpet with her finger.
‘Aye, I knew you’d pass your scholarship.’ He gave soft praise and threw a look of approval at Niall, who displayed his pride in usual reserved fashion.
‘I’m at school as well,’ piped up Brian, a wide beam on his rosy cheeks.
‘He’s only in Baby Class,’ provided Batty.
‘It’s still school,’ reproved his Uncle Sean, before returning an agreeable gaze to the youngest. Then, ‘What about you, Dom – are you still an altar boy?’
‘Yes, I’ve got to be back for Benediction,’ answered Dominic, then saw his father’s look of admonition, and added quickly with his sunny grin, ‘but that’s hours yet.’
‘Good!’ exclaimed his uncle. ‘I thought for a minute you were going to run off before we’ve had a chance to hear all your news.’ But even now, there was not much information to follow, the elder children remembering all the nastiness of last year, and being rendered inarticulate by it.
Juggy was finding it hard to sit still, and shuffled nearer to her uncle to fiddle with his shoelace, poking its tip into the tiny holes that patterned his brogues. ‘We didn’t know we were coming here till we set off.’
Sean threw a shrewd glance at his elder brother, guessing the reason why. But he made no comment on it, for at this juncture a tray of teacups was rattled in by Boadicea, followed by Emma with a plate of biscuits and buns. ‘Oh, here’s your Aunty Emma – you jump up and help yourself,’ he told Juggy, extending this invitation to the rest. ‘All of you, that’s it, tuck in …’
Seated on the carpet again, and biting into her iced bun, Juggy made a sound of approval at their lightness. ‘These are nicer than me gran’s.’
This invoked a warning glare from Dominic, but soft laughter from the adults. ‘I don’t think she was supposed to say that,’ Boadicea leaned over to murmur with a smile of fellow feeling at Emma, and at least here there was the sense that these two were capable of firm friendship.
This being so, it seemed incumbent upon them to do all in their power to repair the situation between their men. And from then on, the ice being broken and such nuggets from Juggy helping to smooth the path towards reconcilation, the rest of the visit was to pass quite harmoniously. The attempts at humour might still be a little tense between Niall and his brother, but by the time they parted, they were on good enough terms for Sean and Emma to extend today’s invitation to something much less formal, and for Niall and Boadicea to reciprocate.
‘Drop in any time!’ they were told, upon parting.
‘But I don’t think he will,’ murmured Niall, as he gave a final wave before he and his family turned out of Sean’s street. ‘By, that was bloody hard, wasn’t it?’
Boadicea nodded. ‘But it’s a start,’ she injected with quiet confidence. ‘It’s a start.’
16
Not until late October, though, did Sean and Emma feel able to make the visit to Walmgate. Even then, it was only performed out of courtesy – for how could Sean say outright that he had no wish to see the place ever again, and thereby insult his elder brother? In effect, this visit was only a gesture, born of the belief that continued alienation would have upset the one who had borne them. Unable to bear the thought of meeting their mother after he died, to face her disappointment in him, that was why he had forgiven Niall. Forgiveness maybe, but things could never be the same again. Yet it must be obvious to his host that his wounds were not as healed as he pretended. This might well be the house where he and Niall were born, but for Sean, any nostalgia was quashed by unhappier memories; and although it was much changed, Nora’s sideboard being replaced by a lot of unfamiliar furniture, throughout the time he and Emma were there, Sean could never quite relax.
His visit was made all the more unpleasant by the knowledge that his ex-mother-in-law was in the house next door. Informed of the brothers’ reunion, and alerted by one of the children to this Sunday rendezvous, Nora had chosen this afternoon to call upon Mrs Lavelle, her voice raised to full pitch so that the neighbours might hear her spleen vented through the walls.
‘Tarred with the same brush, the pair of ’em! No sense of decency, running after tarts …’ The insults were clearly audible, and were to go on intermittently for hours, and no matter how the adults tried to joke about this, the children were naturally ill at ease. It was just as well Uncle Sean had something up his sleeve to remedy this: four complimentary tickets to Bertram Mills’ circus, which had taken up temporary residence on St George’s Field.
‘I thought me an
d Emma might take you and Bo on Saturday,’ he mused tongue in cheek to his brother, before his face cracked with amusement at the looks of dismay that this had provoked amongst Niall’s younger children. ‘I’m only kidding, you daft devils!’ he chuckled, as their disappointment turned to pleasure, and was unable to resist a final tease. ‘But if we’re taking all you kids, you’ll have to save up for three extra tickets; me and Auntie Emma can’t afford to buy them.’
‘Dom’ll pay,’ said Niall with a wry grin at his son, as he lifted his teacup. ‘He’s loaded from all these funerals he’s been doing.’ And there followed a minute or two of jocular chat between nephew and uncle, the latter having also been an altar boy and knowing every wheeze there was to make money from it, or to get off lessons.
‘Before any of you go to the circus, there’s a slight problem to be solved,’ murmured Boadicea. Reminded by the sound of Nora’s voice through the walls, she spoke mainly for the adults. ‘The kids’ll be at Mrs Beasty’s on Saturday; we’d better instruct her to make sure she sends them home on time.’ Looking around at her silent audience, she laughed. ‘Well, don’t all volunteer at once.’
‘She won’t like that,’ posed Niall, uncaring that small ears were listening. ‘’Specially if she knows it’s our Sean getting the pleasure of their company. She might be bloody-minded enough to keep ’em late on purpose.’ His children smirked at the swear word.
‘Best you don’t tell her at all then,’ suggested his brother.
And this was to be the general consensus, Niall somewhat needlessly instructing his offspring that they would not be able to visit their Aunt Harriet and grandmother next Saturday. However, this was to provoke little disappointment in them, with a circus to attend.
Sean and Emma were to stay until after dark, partly because the smaller children had pestered their uncle to read a bedtime story, but also because Sean was waiting for Nora to leave first, having no desire to bump into her, her voice through the walls having been threat enough. With Boadicea being granted an evening off from the pub, the two couples were able to enjoy a more adult conversation, and naturally, talk came around to Niall’s wedding.
‘Have you set a date yet?’ asked Sean, playing with his tie, still not fully at ease with the one who had let him down.
Niall’s face consulted Boadicea, who gave him a nod of permission. ‘We’re thinking around Christmas, or December at least,’ he told his brother, his face bearing a look of self-consciousness as he added, ‘Thought we’d better leave it a while till after … well, you know.’
Sean gave a pensive nod, inferring the tacit cause. ‘I’ll pray Nora doesn’t ruin it like she did ours. By God, once you upset her …’ He shook his head, begetting a lengthy denunciation of his ex-mother-in-law. ‘And the laugh is, she never really made me feel like part of her family. I was always on the outside—’
Niall responded with a fraternal nod. ‘You and me both.’
‘—yet when I want to make meself a permanent outsider, she takes umbrage!’
Again, his elder brother moved his head.
‘Anyway,’ concluded Sean, ‘good luck with your wedding. Make sure you send us an invite.’
Boadicea replied for Niall that of course they would.
‘Right …’ With the conversation petering out, Sean consulted his watch, saying lightly to Emma, ‘We’d better get going, missus. We don’t want to outstay our welcome.’ And he eased himself from his chair.
‘No danger of that,’ Niall growled soft reassurance, and rose with him, Emma and Boadicea rising too, the latter to fetch their coats.
The brothers shook hands at the door, with the parting arrangement that Sean and Emma would be here to pick up the children on Saturday at a quarter past four, the first performance beginning half an hour after that. ‘And thanks for tea!’
Niall and Boadicea stood close together on the doorstep to wave them off, the latter asking quietly as she fluttered her hand, ‘Do ye think he was fishing?’
‘For what?’ Niall gave one last salute as Sean and Emma vanished into the darkness.
‘To be your best man.’
‘Do you have a best man at a register office do?’ enquired Niall. ‘I wouldn’t have the foggiest – but if he was, he’ll be disappointed.’ He turned indoors, indicating for her to go first. ‘I’ll be having Reilly.’
‘I know your friend’s lovely.’ Boadicea lingered in the doorway. ‘But Sean’s your brother. Might he not be upset at being shut out again?’
Niall looked pain-faced, and shrugged. ‘Can’t help that. I know some folk’d frown on me, but I’d be a hypocrite if I were to ask him just for the reason he’s my brother.’
‘Would it be so bad to be a hypocrite for once?’ Her voice was soft, but meaningful.
Niall thought this over. ‘Aye, well, I suppose it’s not as if I haven’t been one before. Maybe I do owe him …’ He puffed out his lips, and stood to brood for a moment, mulling over the afternoon: Sean’s words had been more significant than perhaps his brother realised. Or had there, indeed, been a deeper message in them? Having both felt like outsiders under Nora’s rule, should they not have stuck together; should Niall have not defended his younger brother? Feeling wretched for his own disloyalty, he changed the subject. ‘Speaking of brothers, hadn’t I better meet yours – and your dad? I’ve still to ask him for his daughter’s hand.’
Knowing the last bit to be frivolous, she graced him with her twinkly smile, and linked his arm as they went back to the living room and their still-warm chairs. ‘Right, I’d better take you to get the once-over, then. Will we all of us be going over to Manchester? Sure, it’ll cost an arm and a leg.’
Niall informed her that he could get reduced travel, but joked that, ‘It’ll also put your dad off before he’s had a chance to get to know me if we land him with them five arabs. No, I think we’ll go on our own one Sunday, leave them with one of their uncles.’
She gave a smiling nod, adding softly, ‘I think you’ll like my dad, and Arthur. They’re good men.’
‘They must be to have you.’ His warm eyes held her face.
She studied him for a while, her face correspondingly loving, yet there was something behind her smile, as if she ached to pose some question. Eventually, it came. ‘There’s still time for you to change your mind …’
‘About marrying you?’ Niall was quick to shake his head. ‘No, once I make my mind up, I stick to it.’
Boadicea shook her head, with a pained little laugh. ‘Ye have such a knack of making a woman feel special.’
‘What have I said?’ He looked genuinely confused.
She shook her head despairingly, but her smile was tender. Still looking baffled, and fearing that he might have upset her, Niall suggested they move to the sofa, and here they were to sit for a while, his arm around her, drawing her close to him, her head on his shoulder, to chat about the day, occasionally to kiss, until it was time for her to go.
The following Saturday afternoon, with four hours before the circus was due to perform and five excited children to manage until then, whilst Niall took his boys to visit the barber’s and to buy the eldest one new shoes, Boadicea invited the girls to come with her into town.
‘I’d like your opinion on some fabric I have to buy for a winter outfit,’ she explained, as they went, not revealing that this was to make each of them a dress for the wedding. Having found a seamstress, she intended to keep this a secret – though she would have to think of some way of obtaining their measurements without giving the game away.
Both Honor and her younger sister agreed that the deep blue velvet was an excellent choice.
‘I wish it were for me,’ said Juggy, to the conspirator’s greater glee.
Glad to have so quickly found something that matched the light blue tailored costume she intended to buy for herself, and to have such easy co-operation from the girls, Boadicea was full of beans as she took them off to a café for a cream cake treat, which was more than enou
gh to enamour her to Juggy, and even the more serious Honor dropped her guard.
Afterwards, as they strolled home, wanting to maintain this feeling of camaraderie as long as possible, Boadicea was to whisper with a grin, ‘It’s good not to have the chaps with us sometimes, isn’t it? Shall we stay out a bit longer, pop in and show Mrs Precious what I’ve bought?’ An idea had occurred as to how she could get their measurements – she would ask Ma to pretend that she was knitting cardigans for her nieces the same size.
Unwitting to her reason, but knowing there would be more treats at this address, the girls were more than amenable, and, whilst Honor upheld a more dignified deportment, Juggy went tearing gaily ahead, momentarily disappearing as she reached the other side of the little humpbacked bridge over the Foss. ‘Probably going to jump out at us from a doorway,’ winked Boadicea to Honor, who smilingly agreed.
But no, Juggy was not hiding in some doorway. Upon mounting the bridge they saw that she was standing on the pavement, being accosted by her grandmother and Aunt Harriet. Immediately alert, Boadicea dashed forth, but was not quick enough in the opinion of some.
‘This is how you look after my grandchildren, is it?’ Both angry women turned on her as she thudded down the slope, Nora being the spokesperson. ‘Letting a little lass go by herself!’
‘She wasn’t by herself!’ objected a breathless Boadicea, coming to a halt, Honor arriving simultaneously.
‘Anyway!’ snapped the one in the old-fashioned coat and hat. ‘We’re not standing here arguing with the likes of you. What we want to know is why we had to come trailing down here at all. They were supposed to be coming to us this afternoon! We’ve had to come looking for them. Where are the lads?’
‘They’re at the barber’s,’ Boadicea rushed her explanation to Nora, for it seemed that Harriet was intent on leading Juggy away. ‘I’m sorry, they can’t come today! We didn’t think it would cause such a problem.’ She reached for Juggy’s hand.
Secrets of Our Hearts Page 36