“Meet my sister Esther, Eddie!”
She smiled politely; she had heard her brother talk about Eddie Boylan before. The music started again and Eddie asked her up.
“Take care of my sister, Boyler!” joked Gerard, pulling Carmel up to dance.
The marquee became hotter as Mr. King decided to up the tempo and played a melody of Mexican songs, Eddie and herself laughing and joining in with all the rest of the couples on the dance floor, trying to keep up with the Latin rhythm. Eddie’s brown hair clung sweatily to his forehead as he danced, and Esther was wishing that she had tied her long hair up, then just as suddenly Mr. King decided to slow it down and swung into his own version of “South of the Border.” With relief Eddie pulled her close to him, and tired they leant against each other, swaying to the music as they both got their breath back. In the distance she could see that Carmel had her arms around Gerard’s neck, and he was holding her close. Eddie pressed her even closer to him. He had her almost pinioned against his large chest, moving her around the floor. The palm of his hand was hot and sweaty as he guided her to the music.
“Isn’t this grand!” he mumbled. “You couldn’t beat the likes of a night like this.” Esther nodded in agreement. He was pulling her even tighter, trying to smooch to the music like some of the other couples. Resistance was useless, as Eddie had begun to breathe softly against her ear, touching it with the tip of his tongue and running his lips along her neck. She gasped as he drew her body tight against his own. “Isn’t this lovely, pet!” he breathed as she became aware of the growing pressure of his broad hand on the lower part of her back, moulding her thighs and body to his as he pressed himself against her. Even through the thick tweed of his trousers she could feel it, feel him pushing himself against her, placing his body in line with hers as they danced. The worst of it was that her body was responding too. “You’re a lovely girl, Esther, you know that!” His voice had become husky and now he tried to kiss her.
“Stop, Eddie! Please stop! I don’t want to.”
Ignoring her, he began to kiss her neck and throat, pushing her hair out of the way. It felt like she was melting inside. Jesus, the whole place would be looking at them, but when she opened her eyes she discovered that the other couples on the dance floor were too busy attending to their own romantic needs to pay any attention to herself and Eddie.
“Will we go and sit down?” offered Eddie. The whole circumference of the hall was covered with fellahs sitting on chairs and girls sitting on their laps. “Or we could go outside, it’s a nice night after all!”
Esther shook her head fiercely. “No! No!”
They danced on through another two numbers before Mr. King’s band came to the end of the set. It was time for a break. “I’ll get us two drinks and we can go and sit outside under the stars.”
Esther refused him politely and excused herself. She could sense his disappointment. He had a good heart, did Eddie, but she had no intention of getting herself too involved with him. She didn’t fancy him one little bit. She watched as his huge frame ambled out of sight.
He was right, though, the marquee had become roasting hot. Helen Quinn was wrapped around some tall galoot of a fellah, and Tom was moony-eyed with the girl he’d met earlier. Esther gave him a wink as she passed him by.
It was far too hot to stay inside and she decided to wander out for a bit of fresh air. Perhaps Ger or Donal was outside. She pushed out through the huge canvas opening; the ground outside had become muddy from spilt drinks. Donal and his blonde girlfriend were deep in conversation and she was too shy to interrupt them. Looking all around her, she became aware of all the courting couples in the shadows. Sitting against the wall, down by the trees, over near the rundown sheep pens. In the near-darkness she heard a familiar laugh and turned towards it; Carmel Quinn was leaning against the bonnet of Ger’s truck. Even at a distance, the white gleam of her bare legs could be seen: Ger seemed to have lifted up her dress. The two of them were near eating each other alive, deep kissing and petting. Carmel’s hand was touching her brother in a place where no decent girl would put her hand. Mortified, Esther fled inside, hoping that neither of them had spotted her.
Two of the boys who used to go to school with her asked her up for a dance. Mr. King had just announced the last few numbers of the night when she spotted Eddie reappearing with an eager look in his eyes. Acting quickly, she turned in the opposite direction.
“Would you like this dance?”
She was about to shout, “No,” when she realized that Eddie was whirling a buxom redhead around the floor in front of her. She took the stranger’s hand and followed him on to the wooden floor. She had an impression of coal-black hair, and a broad handsome face. He seemed content to dance and she relaxed and enjoyed the music too. They danced through the fast set.
“I’m Con, Con O’Hagan,” he said by way of introduction, and that was about as much as she could ascertain as he twirled her round the marquee, feeling light-headed and dizzy as he gazed at her.
“And I’m Esther, Esther Doyle.”
He wasn’t bothering to ask her name but she was determined to tell him. His accent was very different from that of the locality and she was curious as to where he was from. Just looking at him made her heart race and she felt deeply attracted to him. He was different from the rest of the local fellahs at the dance. A last slow set started, and she stopped, wondering if he was going to keep dancing with her or make an excuse and disappear. Wordless, he pulled her into his arms, holding her close. Embarrassed, she blushed as she felt his chin rest on her forehead as he drew her in nearer to him. Her cheek and lips resting against his neck, she longed to kiss him or have him kiss her, though she knew well it was only a slut or a good-time girl would kiss a fellah before a first date. They moved slowly and easily to the rhythm of the music, both totally aware of each other, he running his hand down her back. Suddenly, as if by the switch of a button, the marquee began to fill up as all the couples from outside crowded back in for the last dance of the evening, jostling and pushing and forcing them apart; a frantic medley of songs was played to loud cheers, Con staring at her in amusement as she tried to remind herself where she was, then groans as Mr. King swung into the national anthem, which the crowd joined in and sang. Her three brothers were around her as bright light flooded the dance floor. Fellahs and girls clung together, red-faced and warm. Con squeezed her hand, and to tell the truth Esther didn’t want to let him go. She hoped that he’d ask her out on a date or say something about seeing her again, but for some reason he didn’t.
“Esther, will ye-hurry up, Ger wants to bring us home now!” called Tom. “He’s giving Carmel a ride home too and he wants to drop us off first.”
She watched as her brother disappeared through the awning. “I’m sorry, Con, but I have to go or I’ll miss my lift home.”
Con had his arm wrapped around her, and she wished above everything else that the night didn’t have to end so soon.
“Esther!” Donal was shouting at her now. “Ger says if you don’t come on he’ll go without you!”
“You’d better go!” advised Con, releasing her.
She was disappointed, but tried to appear bright and bubbly, as if it didn’t really matter at all if she never laid eyes on him again. Reluctantly she followed her brother out to the waiting truck. Carmel was there, sitting right up beside Ger.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” asked her brothers.
“I saw Eddie was taking good care of you,” joked Gerard. She didn’t even bother to reply. “He’s a good lad, with a big spread of land up beyond the lake. I’m telling you, you could do worse.”
Esther concentrated on looking out into the blackness of the fields and ditches as they drove along the bumpy roads. She closed her eyes. Her mother would be waiting with the kettle boiled, dying to hear how they had all got on. She smiled to herself, squashed between her brothers’ knees. God, she loved dancing. She wished that she could go dancing every night of the year.
She thought of the stranger, closing her eyes as they drove through the darkness. She might not have been so quick to say no if it had been Conor O’Hagan holding her hand and asking her to take a walk outside in the moonlight.
Chapter Eight
Gerard Doyle had formed a plan. It had taken shape in his brain over the years, as ambition and greed became his driving force. He had never got over his father’s tragic death and the resulting hardship they had all endured. He had had to become the man of the family and assume responsibility for his mother and brothers and two sisters. The farm itself was growing bit by bit and eventually the old one who lived near them would be called home to meet her Maker, and he might get the chance to buy her few acres. The parish was full of old folk, t’was only a matter of biding his time. They had the fishing-boat, the Corrib Queen, purchased with funds raised by the parish, and a top-up loan from the bank to fit a new engine. The fishing was going well and Donal was a good worker; eventually the other lads could work for him too, once they were old enough. In time he would purchase another boat: with two they could increase the size of their catch, and their profits. He was not going to let things drift like his father had done. The Doyles would never need the assistance of the parish ever again, if he had his way. He would not be beholden to anyone. The brothers were tough and hardy like himself, and although Esther irritated him at times, she was growing up into a fine-looking woman. Eddie Boylan and some of the local lads were mad about her. He’d make sure she made a good match when the time came, but for now he had to admit that she was a great help to their mother.
But as for that poor simpleton of a sister, Nonie … He clenched his jaw. He wasn’t prepared to have his hard-earned money squandered away on the likes of her. His cash would not be frittered away by a pile of women.
Not that he didn’t like women—well, girls. Give him a drink of porter and a bit of music and he was as good as the next man, swirling around the room, a piece of melting female flesh caught in his embrace, then dashing outside to the cool night air and, under the star-speckled sky, pulling Katie or Carmel or whatever her name was tight against him, ignoring giggled protests, covering their panting mouths with his, deep-kissing them till they moaned as he pressed them close, moulding hips and buttocks to his. Jasus, he was getting excited just thinking about it!
There was work to be done. He had bought a few more sheep in Galway and had sailed them over to Inis Dil, one of the islands, thinking that a summer there might fatten them up. The small island was uninhabited, covered in grass and clover; years ago a colony of wild goats had lived there, but now his few sheep had the place to themselves. Sheep couldn’t be trusted totally on their own, so as often as he could he’d go out to check on them. Young Tom had said that he would come along too.
He watched as his younger brother came stumbling across the stones and seaweed in his rush to join him. The boat was a few yards off the shore, and Tom pulled off his shoes and socks as he waded out to clamber in.
“Esther’s coming too!” Tom smiled, looking forward to an afternoon at sea that didn’t involve fishing.
“Where is she then?” growled Gerard, his humour changing.
“She’ll be along in a few minutes. She’s just finishing off the washing-up.”
“I can’t wait for long, you know, the tide will turn, and there’s a bit of a wind brewing up. She’d better hurry on!” They both sat in the warm sunlight, waiting, as the boat rocked backwards and forwards. Tom scanned the foreshore for a sight of their sister. “I’m going!” Gerard shrugged. “We can’t be waiting all day for her! She can come again another time.” He began to start the engine, turning the boat seawards, the water churning as they left the beach behind.
Esther called their names as she ran panting down the winding path, but knew that it was useless as her voice was lost under the noise of the engine. “Ger! Tom! Wait for me!” she shouted angrily as she watched their boat disappear in the distance. Why did her brothers always do things like that to her? It wasn’t her fault that she’d got delayed. Nonie had managed to spill a jug of milk all over the kitchen floor, and she’d tried to mop it up before her mother discovered it.
“They can’t hear you!” came a voice from the bentover figure working on the dark brown boat at the water’s edge. “They’re too far out!”
“Oh, I know that!” She sighed. “I’m just annoyed with the both of them, that’s all!”
“Are they off fishing? Is it the fishing you like then?”
Esther burst out laughing. “I don’t care a divil about the fishing, it’s just that they’re gone over to Inis Dil. I like the islands, and it’s one of my favourites. My brother has put a few sheep over on it and wanted to see how they’re doing.”
“Sheep on the island, now that’s interesting.” The stranger had stood up, and Esther, embarrassed, smiled, recognizing Con, wondering would he remember her. They grinned awkwardly at each other. In broad daylight he looked different, not quite as handsome, though she was struck by his deep, piercing eyes and square, kind face. “I wouldn’t mind seeing that myself. I’ve a few lobster pots to lift, but can go out by the island if you fancy it?”
Esther hesitated. The thought of an hour or two in his company, away from the house, feeling the salt spray on her face and breathing the fresh sea air, was appealing, but she was cautious after their previous meeting; after all, he was still a stranger, no matter how handsome and fanciable he was. She knew absolutely nothing about him.
The young man seemed to read her mind, and pointed in the distance. “Esther, do you know the old McGuinness Place?”
She nodded, hiding her delight at his remembering her name. Dan McGuinness had been a friend of her father’s for many years. The two men lay buried near each other in the small local graveyard.
“I work for his daughter Nuala, do you know her?”
Nuala McGuinness was an acquaintance of her mother’s. She was an only child and had been left the rambling farmland and two-storey farmhouse about two years ago. Esther’s brothers did odd jobs round the place for her, but still the farm was slipping to rack and ruin. Nuala had never married.
“Aye,” she murmured.
“Look, I’m just offering if you fancy it to come out in the boat.”
Esther stared at him. At that moment if he’d said he was taking her to Timbuctoo she’d have gone with him. For some strange reason she trusted this stranger with whom she had danced. Awkwardly she stood on the beach, unsure of what to do or say next.
“You climb in and sit up the front end of the boat, and I’ll give us a bit of a shove off!”
Esther climbed in over the side of the boat, settling herself on the small seat. She watched as Conor rolled up his trousers as he pushed the boat out into the water before jumping in, flinging his sweater and shoes on to the bench and grabbing an oar to push them into deeper water. His small engine spluttered a few times before starting.
“This used to be Dan’s boat. I’m trying to get it going again, though the engine’s not the best.”
“My father was always telling him to get a new one,” she volunteered, “but Dan wasn’t that interested in the fishing anyways.”
“Your father was a fisherman—Nuala told me about him. You live up by the headland with your mother and a rake of brothers and a poor wee sister that’s not—” He stopped suddenly, embarrassed.
“Right in the head,” she added flatly, admitting the truth to this stranger, wondering if the whole district knew their business.
“I’m sorry, Esther,” he apologized. “I always say the wrong thing and put my foot in it.”
She nodded. “There’s our house, look, I can even see our dog, Mixer!” she prattled on, trying to dispel the sudden silence.
The boat moved on and Esther was content to sit in the sunshine, watching him in secret. They stopped about a mile out and she helped him to lift the lobster pots for a look.
“Only a few crabs!” he moaned, and Esther jum
ped out of the way as he chucked the large ones in the wicker crate on the floor of the boat. The rest he threw back into the salt water. “Not mad on crab myself, but I suppose they’ll do.”
“Whereabouts are you from, Con?” asked Esther, curious about the strange softness of his accent.
“West Cork,” he announced proudly, “where the water is a hell of a lot warmer than here, and when the fishing is good the fish almost jump into the boat. I grew up in a little place called Goleen, have you ever heard of it?”
She shook her head.
“There was a big family of us, and God love my parents, there was no way they could keep us all, so we knew once we got old enough that we’d have to leave the place and make our own way.”
“That must have been hard, having to leave the place you grew up in, and the place you loved,” said Esther, watching the emotion in his eyes.
“Better to leave Goleen than end up hating the place!” He sighed. “‘Tis the same with all small places!”
“I’d never hate here!” declared Esther vehemently.
They passed Seal Island, a small group of rounded rocks that at first glance appeared like a group of huge seals basking in the swirling waters. “They say that this is where the selkies come to sing their songs,” she told him as they passed close by. She noticed the way his thick hair caught in the sea-breeze, and he would try to push it out of his eyes.
“Any sign of your two brothers?” he queried.
Esther shook her head. There wasn’t a trace of their boat, but then this one seemed a lot heavier and slower. All she could see was the vast ocean spread out all around them. For the minute all she wanted was to stay in this old boat near him, this Con, this stranger. Absentmindedly she moved her feet away from the slight pool of water seeping in through the floorboards, and began to bale.
The Magdalen Page 6