One morning, in the spring of 1918, Mary finally received a letter from Sean. Even though she’d told him of her new address, Mary had received no letters in return. She had no idea where he was, or whether he was alive or dead. Guiltily, she berated herself every time she and Nancy got dressed up on their day off to go up to town, for the giggles they shared and above all the sense of freedom she felt in this wide open city, where anything seemed possible.
And because, if she was being honest with herself, she could hardly remember what Sean looked like. Opening the letter, she began to read.
France
17th March
My lovely Mary,
I am writing to tell you that I am well, although we seem to have been fighting this war forever. I’ve a week’s leave soon, and I received your letters telling me that you are working in London. When I arrive there, I will be calling round to see you.
Mary, pet, we must both believe that this war will be over soon and we can return to our life in Dunworley together.
You are all that gets me through the days and nights here.
With all my love,
Sean x
Mary reread the letter five times. Then she sat and stared silently at the whitewashed wall opposite her bed.
“What’s up?” Nancy was regarding her thoughtfully.
“My young man, Sean. He’ll be getting some leave soon and coming to see me.”
“Mercy be!” said Nancy. “He ain’t a figment of your imagination, after all.”
Mary shook her head. “No. ’Tis true, he’s real.”
“And bulletproof and Jerry-proof too, if he’s been in them trenches for the past three years. Most of them soldiers don’t make it through the first few weeks. Ain’t you the lucky one, that you have a fella still alive? What’s the rest of us girls gonna do, eh? Gawd knows how many thousands of young men us girls have lost to this war. We’re all going to end up dying old maids. You hang on to yours, you lucky bugger!” Nancy cautioned.
• • •
Mary was stoking the fire in the drawing room a few weeks later when Sam, the footman, poked his head around the door.
“There’s a gentleman by the name of Ryan asking for you at the front door, Mary. I’ve sent him around the back to the servants’ entrance.”
“Thank you, Sam,” said Mary. Her legs trembled as she walked down the stairs toward her past, praying the kitchen was empty so she could at least be allowed a moment with Sean alone. However, with the constant monotony of their daily routine, the staff were eager for excitement. Consequently, the kitchen had a full complement of servants.
Mary walked across to the back door as fast as she could, hoping to get there first, but Nancy had beaten her to it. Nancy’s hands were on her hips and she was smiling broadly at the gaunt, barely recognizable soldier on the threshold.
Nancy turned toward Mary. “Seems this young man is called Sean, and he wants to speak to you.”
“Thank you,” said Mary.
“He might be a Paddy, but he’s a looker, he is,” Nancy whispered to Mary as she went back into the kitchen.
Mary gazed up into Sean’s eyes for the first time in three and a half years.
“Mary, my Mary, I can hardly believe I’m staring right at you. Come, give your fiancé a hug.” Sean’s voice was choked with emotion as he opened his arms and she went to them.
He smelled different, yet the same. As she hugged him, she could feel his thinness against her.
“Mary,” he crooned, “ ’tis really you, right here in London town. And I’m holding you in my arms . . . you don’t know how many times I’ve dreamed of this, so I have. Let me look at you.” Sean took hold of her shoulders and surveyed her. “I swear, you have grown even more beautiful.”
He was smiling down at her, his gentle eyes full of tenderness.
“Don’t be daft,” Mary said, blushing, “sure, I’m the same as I always was!”
“Can you get away today? I’ll only be having two nights in London before I must leave again.”
Mary looked at him doubtfully. “ ’Tis not normally my day off, Sean. But I can ask Mrs. Carruthers if I may.”
She turned from him to walk back into the kitchen, but he stopped her. “You go and get yourself ready to walk out with me. I’ll be asking your woman myself. There’s not many in London town that can resist a soldier.”
And sure enough, by the time Mary was back in the kitchen in her best skirt and new hat, Sean was sitting at the table with Mrs. Carruthers, a glass of gin in his hand, while she and the rest of the servants listened avidly to his tales of life at the front.
“They don’t tell us nothing,” Mrs. Carruthers complained. “We don’t know what’s going on, we don’t, they just tell us what they want us to hear.”
“Well now, Mrs. Carruthers, I’d say another six months and we’ll have them beaten. To be sure, Jerry is suffering more casualties than we are. We’ve learned, you see, how to fight them. It’s taken time, but I’d reckon we’re on the winning side now.”
“Let’s hope so,” said Mrs. Carruthers fervently. “The shortages here are getting worse and it’s more difficult to put food on the table every day.”
“Don’t you be worrying, Mrs. Carruthers. We’ve a brave bunch of soldiers defending this nation, and I’ll see to it personally that there’s a goose on your table next Christmas,” added Sean, with a wink.
Mrs. Carruthers chuckled and looked up at Mary. “You’ve got a fine man there, miss, even though I say so meself. You two had better be getting off. I’m sure you don’t want to be wasting a second of your leave talking to an old duck like me!”
“Ah now, Mrs. Carruthers, you’re exactly the kind of fine woman us boys are fighting to keep safe.” Sean looked at Mary and smiled. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.” Mary turned to Mrs. Carruthers. “What time will you be needing me back?”
“Take as much time as you want, dear. I’m sure Nancy won’t mind covering your duties just for once, eh, Nancy?”
“No, Mrs. C,” Nancy agreed reluctantly, her nose pushed firmly out of joint by the turn of events.
“ ’Tis awfully kind of you to spare Mary, Mrs. Carruthers. And I promise I’ll have her back here by ten o’clock sharp,” added Sean.
“As I said, any time will do,” Mrs. Carruthers agreed happily.
Mary and Sean left the house and stopped in the mews beyond it.
“I’d forgotten how you could charm the birds out of the trees, Sean Ryan.” Mary gazed up at him in admiration. “Even that old battle-axe I work for. Where should we go?”
Sean looked down at her and shrugged. “You’ll be the one with the knowledge of London, Mary. I must leave it to you.”
“Well now, I’d say that for a start we should go somewhere quiet. So why don’t we go and sit in the gardens just across from here for a while, where no one will bother us?”
Sean took her hands in his. “I don’t care, as long as I can stare into those beautiful eyes of yours.”
They walked across the road to the square gardens, opened the wrought-iron gate and sat down on a bench.
“Ah, Mary.” Sean kissed Mary’s hands. “You can’t know what it means to me to see you, I—” He choked suddenly on his words and sat, silent, next to her.
“What is it, Sean?”
“I—”
And then he began to sob. Great racking sobs which shook his body. Mary looked on in dismay, not knowing what to say or how to help.
“I’m sorry, Mary, I’m sorry . . .” Sean wiped the tears away roughly with one of his big hands. “I’m being daft, so I am, but the hell . . . the hell I’ve been to and seen . . . and there you are, beautiful as you always were. I”—his shoulders heaved—“can’t explain.”
“Perhaps ’tis best if you try and tell me, Sean. I’m not promising I can help, but maybe I can listen,” said Mary softly.
Sean shook his head. “I swore to myself I wouldn’t do this, wouldn’t break down
when I saw you but . . . Mary, how can I tell you what it has been like? How I’ve wished for death so many times because life is”—his voice cracked—“beyond endurance.”
Mary stroked his hand gently. “Sean, I’m here, and whatever it is you need to tell me, I can cope with it, I promise you.”
“The stink, Mary, the smell of dead, rotting corpses . . . it fills my nostrils even now. Just a-lying there in the mud, trampled over—bits of bodies everywhere you look. And the smell of gunsmoke and gas, and the bangs that would frighten the life out of you going on and on, all day, all night, without end.” Sean put his head in his hands. “There’s no respite, Mary, no respite at all. And you’d be knowing every time you went over the top that, at best, you’d lose your friends and, at worst, you’d lose yourself. And wouldn’t that have been fine! To escape from that living hell I’ve been in for almost three and a half years!”
Mary gazed at him in horror. “Sean, we hear only that our boys are doing well now. That we are winning.”
“Ah, Mary.” Sean was no longer crying. His head hung heavy still in his hands. “They don’t want to tell you of the suffering, of course they don’t. To be sure, they wouldn’t get another human being into the trenches if they knew the truth.” He looked up at her suddenly. “And I shouldn’t be telling you now.”
“Sean,” Mary reached out her hand and stroked his head, felt his wiry hair beneath her fingers, “ ’tis right you’re telling me. I’m to be your wife as soon as you’re out of this. And it can’t be long, I’m thinking, can it?”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing every day for three and a half years, Mary, and I’m still there,” he replied desolately.
They sat in silence for a while.
“You know,” Sean said eventually, “I’ve forgotten what we’re fighting for. And I’m not sure I can go back and face it again.”
Mary continued stroking his hair. “ ’T’will be soon you’re out of it, and home with me in Dunworley and our fine new house, where we both belong.”
“You must never tell my mammy any of this.” Sean looked up at her, anxiety on his face. “Do you promise me, Mary? I couldn’t bear to have her thinking and worrying, now. And you’re right.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it so tight that the blood left Mary’s fingers. “It will be over soon. It must be.”
• • •
When Mary arrived back at the house and crept upstairs to her bedroom a few hours later, she was greeted by Nancy, sitting upright in bed, waiting for her to come in.
“Well? How was it? I never seen Mrs. C so taken before. He’s a real charmer, your Sean.”
“Yes, he is that.” Mary wearily began to remove her clothes.
“Where did you go? Did he take you dancing?”
“No, there was no dancing tonight.”
“Did he take you to a club for supper?”
Mary pulled on her nightdress. “No.”
“Well then, what did you do?” said Nancy, with a hint of annoyance in her voice.
Mary climbed into bed. “We sat in the gardens in the square.”
“You mean, you didn’t go nowhere?”
“No, Nancy.” Mary put out the light. “We didn’t go nowhere.”
12
The following evening, Sean came back to Cadogan House to collect Mary again. This time, she took him by tram up to Piccadilly Circus and they bought fish and chips, sitting under Eros to eat them.
“I wish ’twas longer, Mary, and that I could take you somewhere special.”
“This is special for me, Sean.” Mary kissed him on the cheek. “Better than going to a crowded place and having to mind how we behave, don’t you think?”
“ ’Tis fine by me, if ’tis fine by you,” Sean agreed, stuffing the chips hungrily into his mouth. “Mary, I want to say how sorry I am about last night. You didn’t deserve to hear all that. And I’m better today.”
“It’s no problem, Sean.” Mary shrugged. “You needed to let it out, and it’s only right you did it with me.”
“Well now, I don’t want to be talking anymore about all that. I’ll be back soon enough in the midst of it. Tell me about you, Mary, and your life here in London.”
Mary did so as they walked hand in hand down to St. James’s Park. Finally, Sean took her face in his hands. “Mary, it won’t be long now, and we’ll both be going back home.” He looked suddenly anxious. “You will want to come back to Dunworley, won’t you? I mean”—Sean threw his arms wide and indicated what was around him—“ ’tis hardly London town.”
“No, it isn’t, Sean,” Mary agreed. “And I’d say both of us have grown up since we met all those years ago. And the world has changed too. But we’ll build a life together, wherever that is.”
“Mary, oh Mary.” Sean wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hard. He pulled away from her suddenly. “I’ll be getting too carried away with myself if I’m not careful.” He took a few deep breaths then hugged her again. “We’d better be walking back now. I don’t want you in trouble with Mrs. Carruthers.”
The two of them strolled through the streets, still humming with activity at eleven o’clock at night. “Just like Clon village on a rainy Sunday evening,” Sean teased. “So, how do you find Lawrence Lisle? Is he like his brother, Sebastian, a bit of a limp rag? For all his land and his big house.”
“I couldn’t tell you, Sean,” said Mary. “I haven’t seen sight nor sound of him since I arrived.”
“Where is he?”
“No one knows for sure, but he works for the British government overseas. The rumor is he’s in Russia.”
“Well, you might have heard what’s going on there now. I’d say that if your Mr. Lisle is in Russia, you’d be seeing him back here pretty soon. The Bolsheviks are becoming more powerful as each day passes. Ah,” Sean sighed, “I’d say the world is in a right old state just now. And I’m wondering where it will all end.”
They’d arrived in the mews and stood silently at the top of the stairs, neither of them knowing how to say good-bye.
“Come here, my Mary, hold me and give me the strength to turn away from your softness and walk back into hell,” Sean murmured as she put her arms around him.
“I love you, Sean,” she whispered. “Come back to me safe, won’t you?”
“I’ve got this far, haven’t I?” he reassured her. “I’ll write to you as often as I can, but don’t be worrying yourself now if you don’t hear for a bit. I’ve a feeling things are to be mighty difficult. There’s another big push coming which’d sort it out once and for all.”
“I won’t. Bless you, my sweetheart, and may God bring you back safe home to me soon. Good-bye, Sean.” Mary wiped her tears on Sean’s greatcoat and stood up on tiptoe to kiss him.
“Good-bye, pet. ’Tis only the thought of you that is going to get me through.”
Sean turned away from her reluctantly, tears in his own eyes. And, shoulders hunched, walked slowly away down the mews.
• • •
“Don’t know what’s eating you at the moment,” Nancy commented in bed a few days later. “I suppose it’s seeing your fella and him going off again back to it all, is it?”
“Yes.” Mary sighed into the darkness. “The things that he told me about what it’s like out there. I can’t be getting the pictures out of my mind.”
“Perhaps he was exaggerating to get your sympathy, and maybe an extra kiss!”
“No, I don’t think so, Nancy. I wish it was so, but Sean isn’t a liar.”
“Well, from what the papers are saying, sounds as though it’ll be over soon, and then your fella can whisk you off back into the bog you both came from,” Nancy chuckled. “Want to go up to town on Thursday, do some window-shopping and have our tea at Lyons? Might cheer you up.”
“I think I’ll just see how I feel.”
“Suit yourself,” Nancy huffed.
Mary rolled over, closed her eyes and tried to sleep. Ever since she’d said good-bye to Sean three
days ago, she had found it impossible to rid her head of the dreadful images he’d conjured up. And, since then, she had begun to notice the countless men milling around London with eye patches, a lost arm or a leg. And this afternoon, a soldier standing in the center of Sloane Square, shouting to passersby as though his wits had left him. Sean had said the noise of the continual shelling affected the soldiers’ brains. Mary had turned away from the poor, demented soul with tears in her eyes.
The newspapers were full of the Bolshevik revolution in Russia, and the fact that the Russian Imperial family had been arrested en masse. The talk in the kitchen was that they’d be seeing the master home any day soon. Mrs. Carruthers had apparently received a telegram to tell her to prepare the house for his imminent arrival. She immediately went into overdrive, having Mary and Nancy polish the silver three times, until Smith, the butler, gave his approval.
“As if the master’s going to notice whether his teaspoons have a couple of marks on them!” Nancy exclaimed irritably. “After being in all that Russian hoo-hah, I should think he’ll just be glad to be comfy in his own bed.”
Although the house was on red alert, there was still no sign of Lawrence Lisle. Then, four days later, a bleary-eyed Mrs. Carruthers notified the staff that the master had just arrived home at three o’clock in the morning.
“And for reasons you’ll find out later, I ain’t had no sleep since,” she complained. “Honestly”—she raised her eyebrows at Smith—“Who’d have thought it of him?” They shared a moment of disbelief, before Mrs. Carruthers said, “Mary, the master and I want to see you in the drawing room at eleven o’clock sharp.”
“Am I in trouble?” she asked nervously.
“No, Mary, it isn’t you who’s in trouble . . . anyway, I’m saying no more about it until the master’s seen you. Make sure you’re in a clean uniform and there’s not a wisp of hair hanging out of your cap.”
The Girl on the Cliff Page 11