by Sandy Taylor
I smiled. ‘You make it sound easy.’
‘It is.’
‘Maybe I’ll ask him at the party.’
‘Or maybe I will.’
‘No! He’ll know we’ve talked about him.’
‘What does he think we talk about? The weather?’
‘Maybe I will then.’
‘What are you wearing to the party?’
‘I only have the one good dress but it holds bad memories. I’ve thought about giving it to Annie.’
‘What? Your good dress that yer mammy had made for you?’
‘I know, but it’s tainted.’
‘For God’s sake, Cissy, it’s a bit of material, wear the bloody thing!’
I thought of my beautiful dress that I had been so proud to wear and then I remembered how it was crushed up against the logs in the shed and I was full of shame. ‘I don’t want to wear anything that reminds me of Peter Bretton.’
‘We’re the same size, why don’t we swap?’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course, your dress is gorgeous, I’ll be the belle of the ball. I might even find meself a feller.’
‘Bit late for that, isn’t it?’
‘It’s never too late for a bit of romance, Cissy.’
‘Ever the optimist, Mary Butler.’
‘I just hope no one brings presents to the party. I’ve a pile of them at home. Every day, someone just happens to be passing the house with something for the journey. I’ll have to take the food to the party.’
‘They bring food?’
Mary nodded. ‘Ham, eggs, cheese.’
‘For the journey?’
Mary nodded. ‘It will have gone off before I step foot on the gangplank.’
‘Still, it’s thoughtful,’ I said, grinning.
‘I’m taking two small cases, not a feckin’ trunk. Why couldn’t they bring something useful, like jewellery or lipstick? Then I could land in America in style.’
‘You’d look blowsy, they might not let you in.’
‘Then I’ll come straight back home.’
‘Still having doubts?’
‘Every bloody day!’
‘Oh, I’m going to miss you, Mary.’
‘Stop, you’ll start me off.’
‘Who am I going to tell my deepest secrets to?’
‘Colm Doyle, that’s who. He’s your best friend, he’s always been your best friend. Fight for him, Cissy.’
We were just about to leave when Minnie handed Mary a bag. ‘A fine batch of sausage rolls for the journey, Mary.’
We managed to hold it together until we got outside, then collapsed in fits of laughter.
‘The kids will love them,’ said Mary, wiping her eyes.
Mrs Mahon was walking towards us. ‘And what are you two naughty girls giggling about? Is it boys?’ she said.
‘No, Mrs Mahon,’ said Mary, politely. ‘It’s sausage rolls.’
We watched her walk away and started laughing again, hysterical laughter that turned to tears and left me sobbing.
Mary held me in her arms. ‘Oh, Cissy, it wasn’t your fault that your baby was taken, you’re allowed to laugh now and then.’
‘It seems wrong.’
‘It’s what’s going to get you through this, my darling friend. Laugh when you can, no one is judging you. God won’t keep Nora from you just because you laughed.’
‘Promise?’
‘I promise, now let’s go and try these dresses on. I want the boys in Ballybun to know what they’re going to be missing.’
Chapter Fifty-Nine
The front room of the rectory looked lovely; there were candles burning on the dressers and a long table was pushed up against the wall and piled high with food.
‘People have been coming in and out all day,’ said Father Kelly. ‘It takes something like this to bring the town together, everyone wants to say goodbye to Mary and wish her a safe voyage.’
‘It looks grand, Father,’ I said.
‘I’m sorry Father Sullivan couldn’t help, Cissy. I really hoped he would know something. He continues to investigate.’
‘Thank you for trying, Father.’
‘Sure, I did very little.’
‘She’s gone, Father, and I have to accept it and try to get on with my life.’
‘Am I right in thinking that is easier said than done?’
I nodded.
‘I’ll remember Nora in my prayers.’
I held my tongue and didn’t tell him that I’d lost my faith. He put his hand on my shoulder and then walked away.
There were a couple of fellers playing fiddles and one of Mary’s brothers playing the bodhrán. Mammy and Mr Collins were dancing together. Mr Collins had his arm around the mammy’s waist, and they looked happy and at ease as they circled the room. I was glad that they had found each other and were not alone in the world. By the look on Mr Collins’s face as he looked down at her I’d say he still thought that Moira Ryan was the prettiest girl in Ballybun.
Mrs Butler was sitting on Father Kelly’s couch weeping, with half the women of the town patting her shoulder and bringing her glasses of sherry. She wasn’t going to be able to stand by the end of the night. Mary walked over to me, looking beautiful in my blue dress. She was indeed the belle of the ball, the star of the show, and she was loving all the attention.
‘Will you look at her?’ said Mary, pointing to her mammy. ‘Sitting there like the Queen of Sheba and all the women dancing attendance on her. My father will have to carry her home, providing he can stand himself.’
‘She’s enjoying it by the look of her.’
‘I can’t believe this is my last night in Ballybun, Cissy.’
‘Are you excited?’
‘I’d get on the boat now, if I could. Mammy is going to be weeping and wailing all night and none of us will get a wink of sleep. You’d think she’d be glad to get rid of one of us, wouldn’t you? Father Kelly says it’s like the parable of the good shepherd. You know the one, where he has a flock of sheep but can’t rest until he finds the one that’s lost.’
‘I’d say the Bible has a parable for most situations.’
‘Our lot are more like a pack of wolves than sheep.’
‘I’d say you’re right,’ I said, grinning.
‘Your Colm looks handsome tonight, Cissy.’
I looked across at poor Colm, who seemed to have been cornered by Mrs Mahon. ‘I’d better rescue him,’ I said.
‘Ask him.’
‘Ask him what?’
‘If he forgives you. You said you’d ask him tonight.’
‘Did I?’
‘You know you did. Go on, I want to know that you two are going to be alright before I go.’
I walked over to him. ‘I’m sorry to butt in on your conversation, Mrs Mahon, but Father wants a word with Colm.’
‘Will you excuse me, Mrs Mahon?’
‘Perhaps we can catch up later, Colm,’ she said.
‘I hope not,’ Colm said under his breath as we walked away. ‘What does Father Kelly want?’
‘He doesn’t want anything, I just used that as an excuse to rescue you.’
‘Awful woman, but I supposed she’s to be pitied. I don’t think there’s a soul in the town who wants to be her friend.’
‘And that’s because she’s a desperate gossip. Even Father Kelly says she’s better than a telegraph for getting news round the town fast.’
‘So she has her uses,’ he said, smiling. ‘Shall we get some fresh air?’
I nodded. He took my hand and we went through the kitchen and into Father Kelly’s neat little garden. We walked down the path and sat on a bench looking out over the fields that led up to the workhouse.
‘Do you ever think about your time in there, Cissy?’ said Colm.
‘Not much, I think of my friend Nora though. I still feel her loss. I wish she could have known a life outside the place.’
‘But you named your little girl for her?’
> ‘I did, except that Mrs Grainger changed it.’
‘You’ve been through a lot.’
‘It was all my own fault, I have no one to blame but myself. I was a foolish girl.’
‘We all do foolish things, Cissy.’
‘Can I ask you something, Colm?’
‘Ask away.’
‘Do you forgive me?’
‘For what?’
‘For going with Peter. For having his child?’
Colm put his arm around my shoulders. ‘There’s nothing to forgive. You didn’t do it to hurt me, did you?’
‘No, but…’
‘What?’
I turned and faced him. ‘Did it make you feel differently about me? Did it make you stop loving me?’
Colm stared out over the fields. ‘I was jealous of him and I was worried for you because I knew you were going to get hurt.’ Then he looked at me. ‘But I never stopped loving you, Cissy.’
He still hadn’t said what I wanted to hear and I almost shouted at him. ‘How do you love me though? Like a sister, like a friend? Or do you love me like a… like a…’
‘Lover?’ said Colm, smiling.
I was glad of the darkness because I knew that I was blushing. ‘Yes, Colm, like a lover.’
‘Now let me think, Cissy Ryan.’
‘You’re teasing me.’
‘To answer your question, yes, I love you like a brother and I love you like a friend, and I love you like a man loves a woman and I want to marry you if you’ll have me.’ He held my face in his hands and stared at me. ‘Will you have me, Cissy? Will you take a chance on a feller that hasn’t much to give you but would give you the world if he could? Will you walk the road beside me? Will you love me in sickness and in health? And will you stay by my side through whatever shite is thrown our way?’
My eyes were full of tears. ‘I will walk beside you, Colm, and I’ll be proud to call you mine, for I’ve loved you almost all my life and I will love you until the day I die.’
We sat together on the bench and I looked across the fields to the workhouse and I remembered the day that me and Mammy had walked out of those gates and into another life, a life that held Colm. A life that held the boy I was going to marry.
Chapter Sixty
Half the town seemed to have turned out to see Mary off. It was desperately sad to see her brothers and sisters clinging to her.
‘I think you should get Mary onto the coach,’ said Mammy.
‘I think you’re right, Mrs Ryan,’ said Colm.
‘Mr Collins and I will just say goodbye to her.’
‘Are you alright, Cissy?’ asked Colm, holding my hand.
I nodded. ‘I’m not sure how I’ll be when I watch her sail away though.’
‘It’ll be sad alright but you’re a strong girl and that’s what she’s going to need from you. You can cry on my shoulder all the way home.’
I knew that it was going to be hard to see my friend go away but with Colm by my side, it was going to be easier to say goodbye: I wasn’t alone.
I sat beside Mary and Colm and Father Kelly sat in the seat behind us.
As we pulled away, I held her hand. There were tears pouring down Mary’s face as she waved a final goodbye to her family. I was trying to be strong but I felt like crying too. I could find no words to comfort her, so I just kept hold of her hand as we left Ballybun behind us and headed towards Queenstown.
The further we got from the town, the better Mary began to feel. ‘That was the hardest thing I have ever done,’ she said. ‘It all feels so unreal, I can’t get my head round the fact that I am going to America. I’m actually going, Cissy, can you believe it? Because I can’t.’
‘You have so much ahead of you, Mary, so many exciting things to see. I bet when you come home for a visit, you’ll sound like a proper Yank.’
‘If I can afford to come home for a visit.’
I took an envelope out of my bag and handed it to her.
‘What’s this?’
‘It’s so that you can come home one day for a visit.’
Mary opened the envelope and looked inside. ‘But I can’t take it.’
‘Yes, you can, Mary.’
‘You can’t afford to give me all this.’
‘It’s blood money so I can do what I like with it.’
‘From Mrs Grainger?’
‘The very one. If I can’t give the money back, then I want to do good things with it. Anyway, I’ve plenty left.’
Mary put her arms around me. ‘I can’t tell you what this means, Cissy. It makes going so much easier because now it’s not final, I can see my family again one day and I can see you. Thank you.’
When I had first got the money, I was all for throwing it into the nearest fire. It was Mrs Cornish who had persuaded me to keep it and having decided to do so, I was determined to put it to good use. Being able to do this for Mary made me happy.
We had been given so much food by the people in the town that we were able to feed the whole coach and the journey became almost jolly. Before we knew it, we were pulling into Queenstown.
Father Kelly and Colm carried Mary’s bags as we walked down to the dock. There were hundreds of people on the quayside; men carrying bags and bundles, women holding tightly onto the hands of their children and porters wheeling trolleys laden with trunks and cases in and out of the crowd.
We stood staring up at the ship, towering above us like an enormous mountain, seeming to almost block out the sky above it.
‘Wait,’ said Mary. ‘I don’t think I can do this.’
‘That will be the nerves,’ said Father Kelly. ‘It’s natural that you will be nervous, for this is a life-changing thing that you are doing, Mary.’
‘But I’m not sure that I want to change me life now,’ she said. ‘I’m thinking me life was fine as it was. I loved working in the hotel and sitting with you in Minnie’s. What was I thinking, Cissy? Why did I think that America held more for me than Ballybun?’
‘You don’t have to go, Mary. You know that, don’t you?’
‘But all that food,’ she said. Which made us both double up with laughter.
‘You’ll be fine,’ I said. ‘Look at the size of it. You’ll come to no harm on a ship like that.’
As we looked up at the majestic ship towering above us, we couldn’t help but be awed by the size of it.
‘But it’s so big,’ said Mary.
‘It needs to be big to carry all these people safely across the sea to America,’ said Colm. ‘But if you really don’t want to go, we can turn around now and go back home.’
‘I’d feel like an eejit after having a party and all.’
‘They’ll forget, Mary,’ I said.
We were being jostled by people trying to get past with cases and stray kids dashing around. I took hold of Mary’s hand and walked her to a quieter spot.
‘I have something to tell you, Mary.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Last night at the party, Colm asked me to marry him.’
‘Oh, Cissy, that’s wonderful! I am so happy for you, I really am. Now I know you’ll be okay without me.’
‘I’ll still miss you, Mary. Marrying Colm isn’t going to change that.’
‘And I’ll miss you.’
‘Are you ready?’ I said. ‘Or do you want to go home?’
Mary put her arms around me. ‘I’m going to America,’ she said. ‘This is my dream. Look in on my family now and again and write to me. I want letters, lots of letters.’
‘I shall look forward to hearing all your news.’
‘There’s one thing I want to ask of you, Cissy.’
‘Anything.’
‘Will you take Eddie?’
‘For walks?’
‘For good. Will you take him and look after him? I’m the only one who bothers with him, he’ll starve to death with me gone.’
‘Of course I’ll take him, Mary, he’ll be great company for Buddy.’
M
ary kissed my cheek. ‘Goodbye, my dearest friend.’
My eyes were so full of tears that I could hardly see. ‘Goodbye, Mary,’ I said.
Colm had his arm around me as we watched her walk up the gangplank and disappear inside the ship.
‘Do you want to wait until she sails?’ he asked.
‘Yes, I want to wave to her.’
We waited while the crowd began to thin out. It made me feel sad watching men and women walking up the gangplank, hanging onto cases and children and waving to the families they were leaving behind. They were sailing away from these shores for a new life in America. I hoped that it would be everything they hoped it would be.
We watched the gangplank being pulled away from the big ship and scanned the people waving from the decks.
‘Can you see her, Colm?’
‘There she is,’ said Father Kelly. ‘She’s waving to us.’
I spotted her and waved back. She was mouthing something but I couldn’t hear her so I just kept on waving.
‘I think someone is trying to get your attention, Cissy,’ said Colm suddenly.
‘What?’
‘There’s a young girl in a blue coat, I think it’s you she’s waving at.’
I didn’t recognise her immediately. I knew the face but I didn’t know where I knew it from and then I remembered: the girl in the blue coat was Betsy. What was Betsy doing on a ship going to America? She had no money. It was then that I saw her being yanked back from the railings.
‘It’s Betsy!’ I screamed.
‘Who?’ said Colm.
‘Betsy, she helped look after Nora in London, she must be travelling with Mrs Grainger. We can’t let the ship leave.’
‘Are you sure, Cissy?’ said Father Kelly.
‘I’m absolutely sure, Father.’
Father Kelly looked around, then grabbed hold of a young sailor.
‘This ship must not leave the dock,’ he said to him.
‘I’m sorry, Father,’ said the boy, ‘but we are about to go, it’s too late to stop it now.’
‘Listen,’ said Father Kelly. ‘A terrible crime is about to be committed if this boat sails.’
I could tell that the young sailor didn’t know what to do and then he said, ‘Follow me, Father, the First Class gangplank won’t have gone up yet.’