by Anne Bennett
The door had scarcely closed after Kevin when Nuala turned to Grace and demanded, ‘What in God’s name is the matter with you? Don’t you like this Matthew?’
Grace’s eyes met her mother’s. ‘Don’t,’ Maeve said. ‘Don’t burden someone else.’ But Grace had to speak out. It couldn’t wait. She turned to Nuala and said, ‘Mammy can’t marry anyone, not just Matthew, and she knows it.’
‘Grace,’ Nuala said gently, feeling sure she knew what was bothering the girl, ‘your father has been dead some years.’
She saw the shudder run through the young girl and her eyes darkened and seemed to sink into her face as she said almost in a whisper, ‘I know how long Daddy’s been dead, Nuala, because I helped to kill him.’
Nuala jumped back from her niece as if she’d been shot. She didn’t believe her. She’d heard this kind of thing before. Grace had done something to disappoint, worry or anger her father and thought her action had precipitated his death just as Nuala had blamed herself for her father’s heart attack.
‘Stop there,’ Nuala said gently. ‘You’re not at fault.’
‘But I am!’ Grace cried, and it was only the thought of the children in the attic that stopped her screaming the news at her aunt. ‘I hit him with a poker and knocked him out.’
Maeve sighed. ‘Aye, you did, but I finished him off.’ And then, turning to her sister, knowing that now she’d have to tell it all, she went on, ‘I put a cushion over his head and held it there until he was dead, and the most shocking thing of all is that neither of us is a bit sorry about it.’
Nuala stared at them both, the older sister she’d always looked up to and her young niece who’d shared her home like a sister for six years. She thought she knew them and loved them, but their words chilled her to the marrow.
‘D’you know what the two of you are saying?’ she cried.
‘Aye we know,’ Maeve said with a sigh. ‘And this isn’t much of a welcome for you either. I’d rather you’d not been a party to it, but then maybe there were things to be said.’
‘Maeve, have you no conscience about what you’ve done? Have you no shame, no guilt?’
Suddenly Grace was furious with her young aunt, who’d seldom even had a cross word spoken to her in the whole of her life. ‘You know damn all about it,’ she snapped at her. ‘My father believed clouting and punching his wife when he just had the notion in his head to do it was his right. Mammy caught it mostly, and Kevin. It was to protect Kevin as much as herself that she took us to Ireland and then she came back to face it on her own. My father also thought it was his right to spend every penny he wanted on beer, cigarettes and betting on the horses. He didn’t give a tinker’s cuss that the rest of us might freeze or starve to death because of it. You should have seen the state that the little ones were in when we came back here to live. They were just skin and bone and dressed in rags.’ She faced her aunt defiantly and said, ‘They’d had a bloody awful life and when Kevin tried to stand up to him my father really showed how brutal he could be. You can think what you like, but we’re a damned sight better off without him.’
Nuala was stunned both by Grace’s assault on her and also by what she’d said. ‘I didn’t know,’ she said. ‘I mean, I knew how it had been, but I thought it was better.’
‘Well it wasn’t,’ Grace said bitterly. ‘Even Kevin doesn’t know the half of it. He hated Daddy so much, if he’d known some of the things that he did to Mammy, he would have sought him out and murdered him himself.’
‘Dear God, this is awful,’ Nuala said. ‘And this is why you said your mother shouldn’t marry?’
Before Grace could reply Maeve put in, ‘Believe me, Grace, I once felt the same, but the guilt is mine alone. I can’t let the lot of you suffer because of it. When I’m married to Matthew, your lives will be better and he’ll not regret it. I’ll spend the rest of my life making him happy.’
Grace knew her mother was right: the little ones could not be made to suffer for any of it. Her mother was reaching out for a better life for all of them. In everything and in every way Maeve put her family before herself. Grace had no right, either, to condemn her brother and sisters to live in a back-to-back house with all its deprivations and lack of amenities when there was an alternative. And Matthew was lovely and would be good to them all.
Maeve turned to her sister and said, ‘Are you disgusted by us, Nuala?’
‘No, not at all,’ Nuala answered. ‘I admit I was shocked at first, amazed in fact. God, it’s terrible, so it is, what you had to put up with. What did Brendan beat you for? Did he give you a reason?’
‘He could give me a punch or clout for anything,’ Maeve said. ‘Because I looked at him wrong, or because he’d had a bad day, or someone had annoyed him at the pub. But the real beatings he always imagined he had a reason for. The last time, the night he died, he took his belt off to me because he’d found out about the family allowance. I’d been claiming it since the end of the war and he felt I’d cheated him. I’d not told him because he would have reduced my money and it was hard enough to manage as it was. Well, it would have been impossible, really, without Kevin’s money.’
‘He didn’t just hit her,’ Grace put in. ‘He flayed her. By the time I came in he’d almost whipped the clothes from her back.’
‘Dear God.’ Nuala felt angrier on her sister’s behalf than she could ever remember feeling about anything before, and she reached out for the two of them and held their hands. ‘I think the pair of you did the world a service,’ she said. ‘People like Brendan Hogan deserve all they get. And neither of you has to worry that I’ll ever tell anyone this, because I shan’t. Both of you should forget it happened and get on with the life the Good Lord gave you. Don’t let Brendan blight your life, or he will have won.’
It was just what Maeve and Grace wanted to hear, and both of them were reduced to tears. Nuala put her arms around them and the three women cried together.
The first week at the shop, Maeve had been so tired, it had been an effort to drag herself home at the end of the day. Nuala saw this and worried that her sister would wear herself out, so did everything she could to lighten the load. Maeve was thankful she was there.
Maeve had been working less than a week when Syd, who’d disappeared that day out on business of his own, suddenly burst through the door in a fever of excitement, urging both Maeve and Gwen to ‘come and see what I’ve bought.’
Intrigued, they followed him out of the shop to gaze in wonder at the green and yellow van parked in the road directly opposite the shop. Gwen was as surprised as Maeve, for Syd had told her nothing about it either, and she stared at it open-mouthed.
‘What have you done, Syd?’ she exclaimed.
‘What’s it look like?’ Syd cried. ‘Bought a van, ain’t I? I can deliver the groceries to the big houses in this, and in no time too. They can phone the orders through, like. It will be a new service we offer.’ And he nodded at Maeve and went on, ‘I’ll teach young Kevin to drive when he comes back.’
‘Don’t be daft, you can’t drive yourself,’ Gwen said fearfully.
‘The bloke I bought it off took me round and showed me the ropes,’ Syd said. ‘Nowt to it. Young Kevin will pick it up in no time.’ He looked across at Gwen and went on, ‘Don’t start worrying now. I always intended buying summat like this. Would have done it years ago if it hadn’t been for the petrol rationing, but now the ration has been increased I reckon we’ll be all right.
‘Come on, old girl,’ he chivvied Gwen, who still looked apprehensive. ‘Give us a smile. Van will look a treat painted up with our name on the side, and if we save a bit of petrol we can take a bit of a run out of a Sunday.’
Maeve wrote and told Kevin about Syd’s van and how Gwen treated it like an unexploded bomb, but Kevin’s answer, although he said he was glad for Syd and could understand how Gwen felt, for she hated all mechanical things, made Maeve doubt he’d ever come home.
I’ve never worked so hard. Grandda must
have been bad for some time as the place is very run down. Uncle Tom said I can keep the two farm hands as long as it takes to get the place straight. Grandda can do little at the moment and he tires easily.
Maeve knew how much hard work the farm was in the spring and summer seasons, and remembered she’d seen little of her father or even her brothers then, as they were out during all the hours of daylight.
Three weeks after Kevin had gone to Ireland the letter came that Maeve had been semi-expecting.
I can’t leave Grandda, Mammy, and I don’t want to. This is my place and where I want to be. Tell Mr Moss I’m sorry – I’ll write to them myself too, for I owe them a great deal. I’ll be home to see you all and get the rest of my things once the hay is collected in.
Maeve felt as though she’d lost Kevin all over again. She decided to speak to Matthew about going to Donegal for a wee holiday in the summer the following year. It would do them all good and she longed to see her parents again. And it was right that they should meet Matthew. She was sure they’d love him as much as her children did.
By the time she got to the shop to tell Syd the only vehicle Kevin was likely to drive in the near future was a tractor, it was to find they already knew. Kevin had written to them as promised. They were disappointed, but could see that Kevin had responsibilities to his grandfather and the family farm. Maeve felt sorry for them, for she knew how much they’d thought of her son.
But Gwen preferred Maeve to Kevin working in the shop because she was company for her. She’d never had a woman friend before and had never felt the lack of one until recently. She’d been Syd’s wife and helpmate, and Stanley’s mother, and it had been enough. But with Stanley’s death and her slide into the depression that isolated her from the shop she was lonely. She hadn’t realised how lonely till the arrival of Maeve. Gwen soon began looking forward to her company during the day and especially at mealtimes.
From Maeve’s early days in the shop, it had been apparent to Gwen that she was seemingly unafraid of entering turbulent water and avoiding any mention of Stanley Moss’s death in case it should upset Gwen. She didn’t appear to see her as a poor creature who needed special consideration as others, including Syd, had thought of her, but only as a mother who’d tragically lost her only son.
In her first week at the shop they’d all been talking about Kevin one day over dinner, and how much Maeve would miss him.
‘When he and Grace were away before,’ Maeve had said, ‘my mammy took photographs of them to show me how they were growing up. Sometimes I was upset to see them doing things I couldn’t share in, but in another way they were a great comfort. It also helped the others remember their older brother and sister. Even now, that album is one of their favourite books.’
Then Maeve, with a look at Gwen, had added, ‘When I used to come and take the money from Kevin on Fridays, I saw all the photographs you have of your son. He was a fine-looking boy.’
It was said so naturally. Syd held his breath and Gwen stared at Maeve speechless. They never spoke of Stanley, fearful of upsetting each other. But their son had been twenty-five when he died, with twenty-five years of the laughter, tears and worry that the rearing of any child brought about. Gwen realised suddenly that it was unnatural never to talk about him at all. Maybe if they had, they’d have been able to offer each other some comfort. It had been as if his life were something to be ashamed of, or as if he hadn’t existed, and yet he’d been the light of their lives.
She knew that not a day would go by that she’d not think with regret that his young life had been snatched from him and yet she knew he’d always felt the war to be justified – he’d told her that often. She’d loved him and been proud of him and it was about time she said so.
‘Yes,’ she’d said to Maeve, and though her eyes had shone with unshed tears, her voice had been firm. ‘Stanley was a fine boy and I was and am very proud of him. I was his mother for twenty-five years and I only wish it had been longer.’
Syd had felt the breath leave his body in a huge sigh. He’d wished he could put his arms round his wife, for he knew what the declaration had cost her, but he’d been embarrassed to show affection in front of Maeve.
Maeve had no such reserve and she’d grasped Gwen’s trembling hands and felt the raw emotion running through her body. ‘And so do I wish you’d had him longer,’ she’d said. ‘We owe a debt to all those who gave us our freedom and I for one will never forget it.’
Syd had watched them with tears in his own eyes. He knew the healing process for Gwen, which had been chipped away by Kevin, had been split asunder by his mother. The bond between Maeve and Gwen Moss had begun at that moment and it grew deeper as the days slid by.
Gwen looked forward to Maeve coming in each day, enjoying both their easy chats together, the confidences they shared and the support they were to one another. She found talking about Stanley easier and easier the more she did it and Maeve was able to build up a complete picture of the boy, his adolescence and early manhood, which had been snuffed out far too soon.
In return, Maeve told Gwen about her other children, her family in Ireland and her youngest sister living with her. Gwen knew of Maeve’s violent, unhappy marriage, and she thought that Brendan was no great loss to mankind. She remembered he’d tried to strangle her Syd and, to her chagrin, neither Syd nor Kevin had wished to press charges. The man had got away with it and she’d been glad when she’d heard of his death.
Kevin had been much happier too, though he’d been worried over how his mother would cope financially, and Gwen told Syd to double the boy’s wages. She’d not actually met Maeve at that time, though she’d appeared at the shop every Friday for the money for Kevin’s father, until his death, but of course that had been some years before.
The shambling apologetic creature Gwen had sometimes glimpsed at that time had been an object of pity and bore no resemblance to the confident woman that stood before Gwen later and offered to take her son’s place in the shop. It was the fear that had once surrounded Maeve that had given her such a defeated look.
Gwen didn’t want to lose Maeve; she’d shaped up better than she’d ever have thought. She knew she was getting married, but she seemed in no hurry. There wasn’t even the date fixed yet, so why shouldn’t she work there till the deed was done? Maeve had told her now all the children were at school she’d intended looking for a job.
Because the hours were long for a woman with a family to see to, Gwen put it to Syd that they should offer the job to Maeve with reduced hours. In fact, so anxious was Gwen to keep Maeve, she said she would serve in the shop the hours Maeve couldn’t do. The shop held no terrors for her now, and more and more she’d been standing in while Maeve or Syd took a break. Syd was glad to see his Gwen so recovered, yet he didn’t want her to work full time either as she’d once done. It was time for her to put her feet up a bit. This arrangement with Maeve might be the answer for them both.
The new arrangement meant Maeve could leave at half four on Tuesdays and Thursdays, while retaining her half-days on Wednesdays, and the Mosses suggested another half-day on Monday. Only on Saturdays would she work to six and Friday she wouldn’t be home until about half-past nine because it was the shop’s late night.
Maeve discussed the matter with Matthew. ‘Do you want to do it?’ he asked dubiously.
‘Yes, yes, I do,’ she said. ‘I always intended taking a job when Angela and Mary Ann began school. I didn’t want full time, though, but I could manage this, and I like the work and the customers.’
‘Yes, but your idea of taking a job was surely before we decided to marry,’ Matthew said, and Maeve saw the set of his mouth and knew he was displeased. ‘You’ll have no need to work outside of the home then,’ he went on, ‘nor little time either. You’ll have plenty to do and I don’t want Angela to become a latchkey child.’
Always Angela, Maeve thought, but she bit back her irritation. She was, despite Matthew’s disapproval, loath to give up the semi-independen
ce she was enjoying and the satisfaction of receiving a wage she’d earned. Maybe she’d feel differently when the ring was on her finger and Matthew was able to provide for his family.
But until then Maeve knew she’d have to proceed with care. She knew Matthew wasn’t that keen on her working because she was sometimes too tired to go for a walk with him in the evenings and really it was the only time they could be alone.
She knew she must try harder and not rely on Nuala to keep him company. Not that she seemed to mind. She’d fitted into the family so well it was almost as though she’d lived there all her life.
Mary Ann too was delighted with Nuala’s company and became very fond of her. ‘She’s my aunt really,’ she told Angela rather smugly, ‘but you can share her if you like.’
‘She will be Angela’s aunt too when her daddy marries Mammy,’ Bridget pointed out. ‘And you two will be sisters.’
Mary Ann and Angela regarded one anther gravely. Such a thought had not occurred to them.
‘And Mammy Maeve will be my real mammy then,’ Angela said triumphantly.
Maeve was the only mother she had ever known and she loved her dearly. But she liked Nuala too, and so did her daddy, and she was more than willing to go out with them, especially on Saturdays when Maeve was working all day.
And that was really what Matthew was complaining about. ‘I never get to see you,’ he moaned.
‘Let me work for just a little longer,’ Maeve pleaded with him. ‘You must admit the money will be useful.’
Matthew couldn’t argue with Maeve, for once she’d agreed to marry him, he’d immediately started looking at the price of houses in the areas they’d discussed living in. Not only were houses in short supply and snapped up almost as soon as they were empty, the scarcity of them had made the prices shoot up and Matthew knew his gratuity and savings would barely scrape up the minimum deposit.
‘How long is a little longer?’ he asked Maeve eventually.