The Magdalen

by Marita Conlon-McKenna

  “You’re in love, Esther! You know you are!”

  Esther blushed, giggling, as her best friend Anna teased her.

  “Go on, admit it!”

  Esther grinned. It was true, she loved Conor, she was mad about him and was sure he felt the same for her. “I don’t know him that long, Anna, it’s not like you and Matt, knowing each other for years.”

  “That don’t matter at all. Sure I couldn’t help noticing Matt since I saw him practically every day of my life,” joked Anna. “He’s the real boy-next-door that they write about in the magazines, whereas your Conor is more the tall, dark handsome stranger type.”

  “That’s just because he comes from West Cork,” said Esther defensively.

  Down below on the damp golden sand, Nonie played with Anna’s little brother Sean, who was in the same class as her at school. They had two buckets and two wooden spoons and were building sandcastles, Nonie getting vexed as she was getting sand that was too wet and her castles kept collapsing.

  “Use drier sand!” advised Esther, knowing that Nonie didn’t understand what she meant. Esther went over to help her, showing her the difference between the sands and how if it was too dry or too wet it wouldn’t work. Sean bent down, building castle after castle and digging a moat, understanding naturally the right thing to do.

  “You’re very good with her,” murmured Anna, stroking the back of her hand.

  “She’s my sister!”

  “Matt and I are saving to get married.”

  “Oh, Anna, that’s great!”

  “Next year, he’s hoping his daddy will give us a small site to build a place of our own. I told him I didn’t want to go and live with his family, and there’s not enough space in our house.”

  “Will his dad give him the site?”

  “Hopefully. If not I suppose we’d move into Galway town someplace, but then his dad would have no-one to work at the bricklaying with him.”

  Esther momentarily envied her friend. Anna did secretarial work in a furniture factory on the Galway road, getting the bus there and back each day.

  “What about yourself, Esther, would you marry Conor if he asked you?”

  “Oh yes! But Anna, it’s not that simple, he only works up in McGuinness’s, he hasn’t a place of his own and you know there’s no chance of any help on my side.” Esther felt despondent for a minute even thinking about it, yet longed to marry Conor O’Hagan.

  “Stop daydreaming!” jeered Anna. “The two are killing each other.” Nonie and Sean were rolling round the sand fighting, flinging fistfuls of sand at each other, their hair and clothes speckled with it.

  “What are you fighting about, Sean Mitchell?” shouted Anna, pulling her brother away from Nonie. “You know boys are not meant to fight with girls. Daddy’ll kill you when he hears!”

  “Nonie hit me first! She beat me with the spoon and I just pushed her back,” the angry little red-haired boy insisted.

  “He was hurting the jellyfish and I tried to stop him being such a bold boy.”

  Esther wrapped her arms round her sister. “You know you’re not to fight, Nonie.”

  “He was throwing sand on the jellyfish and hurting it, and I was trying to make it better,” sniffed Nonie, her eyes welling with tears.

  Anna and Esther espied the sorry-looking jellyfish almost completely covered in sand.

  “I was trying to bury it so it couldn’t sting anyone,” explained Sean stubbornly.

  “Come on, you two!” offered Anna. “Why don’t we go back to our place and we’ll get a nice hot scone from the oven and a glass of home-made lemonade.”

  “A big one?” Sean smiled.

  “What about the jellyfish?” remembered Nonie.

  “The tide’s coming in real soon, pet, and it will get washed back out to sea again,” promised Esther.

  Nonie looked doubtful, but was eventually persuaded to leave the beach and run up along the road with Sean, best of friends again, Anna and Esther, arms linked, walking behind them.

  The days were growing longer and the air was warm, so the chances to escape the confines of the cottage and her brothers and sister became more frequent. Her mother was engrossed in preparing Nonie for her First Holy Communion. Mr. Brennan, the schoolmaster, had mentioned that he felt Nonie might not be ready to receive First Holy Communion with the rest of the class. Her mind wandered and she was too giddy. She had no understanding of the solemnity and importance of the sacrament, he had told her mother haltingly.

  “I don’t think she understands a bit of it!” he had added. “Perhaps Nonie might wait till she’s a bit older, and a bit more mature.”

  Majella Doyle had returned from the small parish school grim-faced and filled with disappointment.

  Nonie of course didn’t give a toss. Esther, Tom and Donal had all tried their best to comfort their mother. “We could instruct her ourselves, practise with her,” suggested Tom, “then surely Mr. Brennan and Father Brendan couldn’t object!”

  So for a while, every evening after school, Nonie was made to walk up and down the cottage floor in a straight line, to put on a serious face, to hold her hands as if she was praying devoutly, and not to toss her head or wag it. Mixer whined and growled at the sudden strangeness of his young mistress’s behaviour and had to be shut outside the door. ‘Twas a terrible job trying to keep a straight face with the dog barking outside the window and Nonie inside trying to do her best to please Mother and practise for the communion. Majella Doyle had cut out circles of bread and practised placing them on Nonie’s tongue. “That’s stuck out too far!” “No, Nonie! Open your mouth a bit more or it’ll fall off!” The widow Doyle asked the Lord to forgive her as she placed yet another circle of bread on the child’s tongue. Tears of laughter streamed down Esther’s face watching the daily pageant being acted out by her sister and mother. Each night they took turns reading the Bible with Nonie, which led to even more confusion. She listened attentively to the story of the Last Supper, but once Esther or Tom began to read about the betrayal in the garden, or the arrest and crucifixion of Jesus, she would begin to weep and cry, getting herself all upset.

  “I don’t like hearing about people dying! I don’t want to eat his body and drink his blood!” she’d shout, scrunching her face up. Mother would be forced to produce a bit of sweet cake or a crunchy oaten biscuit to halt her tears.

  Esther would try to slip away from home, hoping that Nonie wouldn’t follow her. She wanted to be on her own with Con, and have him all for herself.

  Often they would talk; he knew all about her family and their circumstances, but she in fact knew very little about his. “Go on, Con! Tell me about your mam and dad and all your brothers and sisters.” Conor was very reticent about his family but Esther gathered that his father had worked mostly as a farm labourer, moving round the West Cork area, Ballydehob, Bantry, Glengarriff, finally settling in a little place called Goleen. She even loved the way he said the place names.

  “We never had a place of our own, always a rented house or a cottage that went with the job. The mother was a great woman that could make the best of anything and turn a damp pigsty of a place into a home fit for a gaggle of children. The da would be off working, too wore out to give her a hand. He’s a strong man though and will work for his keep till the end of his days, God help him!”

  Esther always knew when Conor considered he’d said too much, as he would pull her close and kiss her, ending any further conversation. He almost wanted to protect her from himself, didn’t want her to see the harsh life that had shaped him. She loved him even more for it and wanted to wrap her arms tight around him and make him forget, make him love her instead. They had to be careful in case Nonie or one of the neighbours spotted them. Gerard had already had angry words with her about the young man, shouting about the importance of a girl’s reputation. He had walked off when she had retorted about the reputations of the girls he hung around with. “That’s different!” was all he’d say.

  “The
master said yes!” announced her mother, her eyes proud. “Nonie will make her First Communion with the rest of the class next Saturday.”

  The brothers just nodded, Liam and Patrick wondering what all the fuss was about. Only Esther seemed to realize the triumph it was for their mother to win such acceptance for their sister. The freshly starched communion dress that she had worn was already hanging in the wardrobe, but Mother insisted that a new veil, white tights and new shoes were needed for Nonie. “The moths have got at Esther’s veil, so my darling girl will have to get a new one.”

  Even Gerard could not begrudge his mother the shopping trip to Galway, and had pressed some extra money into her hand. Majella looked tired herself; maybe a new dress or costume would cheer her up.

  Esther had little chance to see Con as her mother insisted that the house be cleaned from top to bottom, the windows washed, the brass polished, and the chinaware and glass washed till it sparkled. For the first time in ages she had invited a few of the neighbours to join them afterwards for the communion breakfast. Esther was delighted to see her mother’s glowing face as she rearranged the plates on the dresser for about the hundredth time. Esther missed Con and longed for night to come and the chance to dream of him.

  The communion day dawned. All the brothers were dressed in their very best: suits for Gerard and Donal, new jumpers for Tom and Liam and Paddy. Her mother had bought a hat, navy with a big bow on the back; it went perfectly with the simple navy suit she had chosen. Esther had her good summer dress, pale blue with small white polka dots, the bodice fitted and the full skirt twirling out round her hips. She wondered if Con would like it too. Nonie was jumping around the kitchen in her nightdress. Mother would only put the white dress on her at the very last minute before they went out of the door. “We don’t want her walking up the church with a big spill or pawprint on the good dress!”

  Nonie was frantic, trying to cajole them to give her something to eat. “I’m starving, Mammy!” she begged. Their mother was adamant that Nonie would not break the communion fast. “Soon you will be at the table of the Lord, Nonie,” she replied firmly.

  “There’ll be potato cakes, and black and white pudding and rashers and a big slice of Mammy’s Madeira cake when you get home from the church, Nonie,” added Esther.

  “And I’ll drink a big glass of red lemonade then too!” Nonie smirked.

  Eventually the white communion dress and veil were put on and Nonie, for all the world looking like a small white angel, walked with her family to the grey stone church.

  They were seated on a bench right in the middle of the church, and Majella Doyle’s eyes welled with tears as Nonie and the rest of the children sang a special hymn to the blessed Virgin. The Latin mass seemed to take an age and Nonie behaved perfectly, not even turning round in the seat once to stare at the neighbours. Esther held her breath, watching as the priest and the altar boy walked along the communion rail, and breathed a sigh of relief as Nonie received her First Holy Communion.

  They all had to stifle their laughter at the contortions of her mouth and face. You’d think she had a big wad of toffee stuck in her mouth. It was with great relief that they knelt for Father Devaney’s final blessing before joining the rest of the families outside in the churchyard.

  Mr. Brennan had a small holy picture of the saints or Jesus or Mary for each child in the class. The back was signed with their name and the date to remind them of their First Holy Communion. Nonie giggled as she placed the picture of Saint Theresa, her favourite saint, in her small white glove bag for safekeeping.

  Esther left the happy group. She wanted to set the kettle to boil and make a start on the cooked breakfast. Soon the neighbours would be in on top of them. The bacon was sizzling and the fire burning bright by the time the rest of them arrived home. Nonie loved being the centre of attention, and danced around the room, her blue eyes shining and her soft ringlets bouncing. Esther had never seen her young sister look so pretty or behave so well. Mixer whined to be let in to join in the fun. By early afternoon only a few of the neighbours remained, sitting in a corner gossiping with Mother about old times. Gerard had sloped off down to McEvoy’s. Tom and Donal both had work to do, and the others were playing with Nonie, admiring the few gifts that she had received. Everyone was occupied and Esther realized that now was her chance to slip away to see Con.

  It didn’t take her long to find him. He was mending the barbed-wire fence that ran along the side of the farm. Two curious sheep stood watching him. Esther shouted, unable to hide her delight at seeing him. With great care he managed to climb over the fence and come to her side of the field. She hugged him, suddenly feeling shy.

  “Glad to see me?” she said softly.

  “Aye,” Con answered, his face serious. “I missed you. I was worried something might have happened to you.” Pulling her close, he kissed her till she felt weak. She kissed him back just as eagerly. His hands ran over the fine blue material, his fingers trying to open the tiny pearl buttons.

  “Don’t ruin my good dress!” she joked. Of late he always tried to feel or stroke her breasts, to touch his lips to her nipples. She stroked her hands along his neck, wanting to be even closer to him. “Do you love me, Conor?” she whispered into his ear.

  He was trying to place her hand on his trouser opening, wanting her to stroke him down there. “Esther, I fancied you from the very first minute I set eyes on you at that dance, and ‘twas fate made us near drown together,” he murmured, silencing her by covering her mouth with his. Their closeness was disturbed by a voice shouting at them.

  “Con! Do you hear me, Conor? I need you to help me with Bessie!”

  Con hesitated. Out of the corner of her eye Esther caught sight of Nuala McGuinness traipsing across the field towards them. Esther scrabbled to rebutton the front of her dress, hoping the other woman hadn’t caught sight of her bare flesh.

  “Mother of God!” she hissed at Con. He only smirked at her embarrassment but stepped back away from her so it looked like they were just chatting.

  “Nuala, have you met Esther Doyle?” he enquired politely.

  The other woman stood right in front of her. “Aye! You’re Majella’s daughter. The lass he nearly drowned with!”

  Esther blushed, wondering if the other woman had noticed her swollen lips, flushed face and wrongly buttoned dress-front.

  Nuala was a plain-looking woman of about thirty-five or so, with a long narrow face and thin lips, her frizzy mouse-coloured hair pulled back off her face. Her skin was very fair and she always looked slightly pink, though her eyes were the palest blue and fringed with long light brown eyelashes. “Con, we’d best get a move on!” she said firmly, eyeing the two of them. “I think Bessie’s calf is turned!”

  “I’ll be there in a minute, Nuala,” he replied.

  “Anyways, I’m sure your mother will be needing you at home, Esther!” added the middle-aged woman dismissively, as if she was talking to a small child. “So you’d best be running along.”

  The two of them stood watching as she strode back along the way she came, heading towards the barn.

  “She’s got a kind heart and a way with animals,” murmured Con in annoyance, “but no sense of timing!”

  Esther stepped away from him. Nuala McGuinness might be an old maid, with a plain face and not a bit of romance in her body, but after all she was his boss and he worked for her. She didn’t want to get him into any trouble jobwise.

  He caught her hand. “When will I see you again?”

  “Tomorrow,” she promised, kissing him one last time. She watched as he walked away from her, thinking about him all the way home.

  Chapter Ten

  “Take off that dress, missy, or I’ll get the wooden “spoon!” pleaded Mother to a nonchalant Nonie. “Esther, for heaven’s sake do something with the child!”

  Esther’s mind was on other things. There had been no sign of Conor for the past few days and she felt utterly bereft without him. She was jumpy and nervo
us, the slightest thing making her want to cry, and she kept daydreaming of him standing there touching her. Why hadn’t he called to see her, or sent a message to her? She couldn’t bear being apart from him, realizing how much she actually loved him.

  “‘Tis my dress and I’ll not take it off!” screamed her little sister at them all. No amount of cajoling or promises would get Nonie to remove the communion dress and put on her everyday clothes. “I’m pretty and holy and beeuutiful in my dress!” she insisted, stomping on the floor again.

  “You’re just mad!” exclaimed Gerard from the chair he was sitting in.

  In a second Majella had slapped the side of his face, leaving a palm-sized blotch against his cheek. “Don’t you ever dare to say that about your sister!” she declared, furious with him. “There’ll be enough people hurting the child and calling her names without her own brother doing it!”

  Ignoring her, he stood up, flinging the newspaper on the ground, and pushed past them, complaining, “I’ve enough of this madhouse!”

  Esther sat her mother down, trying to calm her as Donal made her a cup of weak tea. She and Gerard always seemed to be fighting these days. Her older brother was courting Brona McEvoy, the publican’s only daughter. God knows, he spent enough time in the place anyways. Brona was no beauty queen, but Gerard seemed not to notice or care about her plain acne-scarred face. Her brother Malachy had upped and gone to join the priesthood, much to their father’s annoyance, and now he relied on Brona to assist him with the customers. Gerard was certainly one of those, sitting on a bar stool flirting with the owner’s daughter day after day.