by Anne Bennett
Andy was suddenly so still that Celia cried, ‘You did didn’t you, you thought Grace was my child? How on earth could she be?’
Andy said, ‘All right, it was mad and I am sorry for thinking that you had betrayed me that way, but the boy who brought Annabel the note said you were pregnant and because of the change of names I thought he meant you and when there was no reply I suppose I thought the worst.’
‘I’ll say you did,’ Celia said tersely. ‘Now tell me what Norah has done to upset Mammy and Daddy so much.’
And Andy dropped Celia’s hand and wrapped his arm around her and Celia thought it much more than just pleasant to be snuggled that way and she leaned against him as she listened as he began to tell her the tale that Norah had told him and Billy in the boat. Celia was surprised that Dermot had gone to America, that her mother had agreed – that he might be influenced, coerced or even bullied into joining the IRA, like so many young fellows apparently had been.
Celia could only think of her mother and the wrench it would have been to see her young son set sail across the foam, knowing the likelihood was that she’d never see him again. And then this loss would be compounded when she arrived home to find that her daughter was gone too. She could understand why Norah felt she had to come and see that she was all right though, as Andy had sent the letter to his parents making no mention of Celia because of a misunderstanding after Seamus Doherty had seen both of them boarding the Birmingham-bound train.
‘What made you come to the canal for work?’ she asked Andy.
‘Well that was originally born of necessity,’ Andy said. ‘When I with factory doors continually slammed in my face, it used to make me feel pretty bad at times and coming down the canal made me feel better about myself. There was always something useful I could do.’
‘And why were you accepted so easily by the boaties?’
‘Because the boaties are considered social outcasts anyway because of the way they live, yet they’d no choice, because they’d been farmers once and were turfed off the land because they were bringing the railway through. And Billy of course knows no other life. And they make a living and that’s what matters in the end.’
‘And why didn’t people like you?’
‘I’m Irish.’
‘So?’
‘Listen, Celia,’ Andy said. ‘Some of the survivors of that devastating war were told that they were coming home to a land fit for heroes and they came back to poverty and deprivation and the dole queue. The last thing these poor battered veterans want is young, fit Irishmen coming to England to chase the few jobs there are.’
‘Many Irish boys fought anyway because they were promised Home Rule if they fought for England,’ Celia said.
‘Yeah and that hasn’t happened and I never really expected it to,’ Andy said. ‘But it wasn’t till I came here that I fully appreciated the fact that it’s not just the Irish the English let down, because they have also let down these poor souls that have fought through the blood and gore of the trenches. Look at people like Billy who had three brothers killed in the war and his parents dead as well of heartache, he says.’
‘I’d love to meet Billy and see his boat and the canal and everything,’ Celia said. ‘It seems so much part of your life now.’
‘So why don’t you come over next Saturday afternoon?’ Andy said. ‘It’s a different place on Sunday, but after we bring the Dunlop workers home at lunchtime on Saturday we are free for the afternoon. If you come then I could show you everything, introduce you to Billy and then if you like we could go to the Bull Ring.’
‘What’s the Bull Ring?’
‘It’s a big market,’ Andy said. ‘In the early days, searching for work every which way, I picked up a bit of work there, mainly running with the barrows to claim the best spot, setting out the goods and sweeping up at the end of the day and that.’
‘Won’t the market be closed at night though?’ Celia said, cutting across him.
‘That’s just it,’ Andy said. ‘Maybe every other night in the week it would be, but Saturday night there is great entertainment to be had. I’ve never seen it myself, but Billy said it’s well worth a visit. We always intended to go but never did. What d’you say?’
‘I’d love to go …’
‘I sense there’s a “but” coming there.’
‘It’s the baby.’
‘What about her? She’s not your responsibility.’
‘Yes she is.’
‘Not totally.’
‘Andy, I was with Annabel until she breathed her last and I took on the care of the baby because there was no one else. Until a few hours ago I didn’t know whether you were alive or dead, whether our relationship was over and with it my future. For Annabel’s sake, I loved and cared for her child the best way I knew, so I was with her nearly every minute of the day and she slept by my bed at night and over the weeks she’s twisted her way into my heart and become my life, my reason for living if you like. I love her as if she was my own and when Henry’s parents said they had made no arrangements for Grace’s care, I was glad. Not that I ever believed for one minute that they would have done.’ Celia looked at Andy, but the light was fading in that short winter’s day and so her face was half hidden in shadow, but her voice was plaintive as she said, ‘I can’t just turn that love off.’
‘Darling,’ Andy said. ‘I’m not asking you to turn anything off, but just share it a little. Every word you have just said tells me what a wonderful person you are and what a loyal friend. Now your sister is here so let her share the load, for Grace’s sake as well as your own. I want to walk out with you properly, a thing we never could do in Ireland, and get to know you again after so many months apart. Don’t you feel that too?’
The pleading tone in Andy’s voice struck a chord in Celia’s heart and she said, ‘Oh yes, Andy. Yes I do.’
Andy turned Celia to face him and pulled her tight and so close that she felt his breath on her cheeks and then their lips met. This was their first real kiss and it was so powerful it nearly took Celia’s breath away and as Andy teased her lips apart, she moaned as strange stirrings flowed through her body. Andy heard the moan and felt her body responding to his and his heart soared for he knew then he hadn’t lost Celia as he had feared, but to win her totally he knew he would have to proceed slowly but that was all right. He was a patient man.
When he released her he said, ‘Now we must go back to the house for you must be frozen and I don’t want you taking a chill.’
Celia felt as if a furnace was burning inside her, but she didn’t say this. She didn’t say anything for it was enough to be held close to Andy, to hear his heart beating in his breast.
When Andy and Celia returned to the house it was obvious to Norah, who knew her sister better than most, that something had happened between them and she was glad. She was totally in agreement with Celia going to the canal to see the boat Andy was working on and also to see Billy.
‘You’ll like Billy, Celia,’ Norah said. ‘He’s ever so nice and the boat is as pretty as a picture, brightly painted outside and all spick and span inside. It’s small though,’ she went on. ‘Billy’s mother must have felt she was working in a doll’s house.’
‘She wasn’t a big woman by all accounts.’
‘Just as well,’ said Norah. ‘But Billy is not exactly a small man, is he, and if his brothers were built like him can you imagine the four of them being there together?’
‘Billy always said it was often a bit of a squash and yet, you know, I think he would give up all that space he has now willingly if even one of his brothers had survived.’
‘I would say you’re right,’ Norah said.
‘You know, till I came here, to England, I never realised how many men that Great War took,’ Andy said. ‘I mean, I saw the casualty figures, but they were just numbers and it only really hits home when you relate to the people. Billy told me it isn’t just him lost all his brothers, for nearly every boatie family had someone b
elonging to them conscripted and a fair few never came back. He said they had what they called Pals regiments when all the men would be collected up from one area. Small towns with surrounding villages and farms or parts of larger towns.’
‘That’s right,’ Henry said. ‘Dreadful idea.’
‘Why was it?’ Celia asked. ‘Wouldn’t it be better to be all together? They could look out for one another.’
Henry shook his head. ‘I was an officer and I can tell you that in a war of that magnitude no one can look out for another. It wasn’t some jolly boy scout camp they were going to. There was colossal loss of life and those that stayed together, died together, which meant that whole areas were stripped of men, in every city and town in Britain. It was stopped in 1916 when most of the damage had been done. Tell you, working and fighting alongside those men made me rethink the class system we have in this country. What with boarding school and then university, I’d never had much to do with the working classes, except for the estate workers and their families. I saw men with true courage and heroism and many still retaining a sense of humour in spite of everything.’ He shook his head from side to side and then said, ‘When you’ve relied on one another and shared so much together you can never think of people the same way again.’
Celia was silent. Everyone was silent. They had all heard the passion in Henry’s voice and knew every word had been wrung from him, and also that every word was true and then he gave a short bitter laugh and went on. ‘Well aren’t I the doom and gloom merchant? When we were in the thick of it, before any chaps might go home on leave, we were always warned not to share the horrors of war with our loved ones because it would cause them to worry needlessly. How right they were, so I’m sorry for that little display. It’s just that sometimes memories catch me unawares.’
‘I can quite understand that,’ Andy said while Celia cried, ‘I didn’t know you were in the army, Henry?’
‘There was no need for you to know,’ Henry said. ‘It wasn’t a big issue at the time. Our country was at war and so young men and some not so young, if they proved fit enough, were drafted into the services.’
‘I suppose. Strange Annabel never mentioned it.’
‘It barely made a dent in her life,’ Henry said. ‘She wasn’t at school, don’t forget, and so her education was in no way interrupted and she had no school friends to discuss things with and her poor governess would only speak of things Mother approved of and war talk wouldn’t have been considered a suitable topic for polite conversation.’
‘Didn’t your parents’ servants leave you in droves like we heard was happening?’ Andy asked.
‘No,’ Henry said. ‘It wasn’t what you would call a stampede: the stable lad, two farm hands and the young gardener were all called up. But my father called the old man who used to do the garden out of retirement and asked him to serve for the duration and he agreed. The old stable hand said the stable lad was worse than useless and with me off as well there would be less to do and he would be happier on his own. The farm hands were, I grant you, more difficult to replace and in the end my father was forced to take on a couple of land girls. The others were too old to be called up or too settled to want to move. My parents’ and Annabel’s lives were barely affected by that devastating war. There was always plenty of food in the house too and my father’s cellar was as well stocked as ever. They still held dinner parties and my mother her soirees.’
Andy was shaking his head almost in disbelief. ‘It doesn’t seem right that they should go on as if none of it is any concern of theirs and they don’t seem to spare a thought for the dead, the dying and the disabled, especially when you could have been one of those casualty statistics.’
‘Oh they didn’t want me to go to war,’ Henry said. ‘We argued about it, my father and I, and my mother wept crocodile tears all over me. My father said he could fix it so I didn’t have to go.’
‘How could he do that?’
‘Oh, there are a number of ways,’ Henry said. ‘He could have bribed someone who maybe had a dicky heart to pose as me so that on paper I failed the medical. I don’t know if that’s what he intended because I didn’t listen but you can get most of what you want if you are prepared to pay the price.’
‘That’s true enough,’ Andy said with feeling.
It was a little later over tea that Andy talked about taking Celia to the Bull Ring on Saturday evening after she had been to see the boat.
‘Oh there’ll be some entertainment there I’d say,’ Henry said.
‘Like what?’
‘I haven’t the slightest idea.’
‘What!’ Andy cried. ‘You mean you’ve never been?’
Henry shook his head and Norah said, ‘But why if it’s as good as you say it is? I mean, you must have asked people about it to know that much.’
‘I think I know why,’ Celia said. ‘I bet Mama didn’t think it quite the thing.’
‘Probably not,’ Henry said. ‘But you can’t help what class you are born into, can you?’
‘Well no,’ Celia conceded.
‘No need to go along with such outdated notions when you are an adult though,’ Henry said. ‘So I have a great idea. Why don’t all four of us go together?’
Andy’s heart sank because that wasn’t what he had envisaged at all, but he could hardly say anything and it was Celia who cried, ‘How can we all go out and leave the baby?’
Sadie was clearing the table and had heard a lot of the discussion and said to Celia, ‘You won’t be leaving the baby on her own. I’ll be here to see to her.’
‘You won’t mind that?’
‘Why would I mind?’ Sadie said. ‘I’m going nowhere and she’s a little angel about going to bed. What I do mind is that you never seem to go out and enjoy yourself. Since I’ve been here you’ve seldom been across the threshold unless you can count the strolls you used to take in the park with Miss Annabel till she got too big and ungainly.’
Henry felt guilty for he knew Sadie spoke the truth and he said, ‘Sadie’s right, you should be going out more, and from what I’ve heard Saturday night at the Bull Ring is as good a place to start as anywhere else. What do you think, Andy?’
Andy thought he might as well tell Henry exactly what was in his mind. ‘Well what I think, sir,’ he said, ‘is that while I don’t mind the four of us going to the Bull Ring this time I don’t want it to be a regular occurrence that we go out in a gang. Celia is my girl and I want to court her properly. And after being apart so long we need to get to know each other again and we won’t do that if we always go out in a party.’
‘Oh, well said,’ Sadie said before anyone could say a word. ‘Andy has hit the nail on the head.’ She then looked from Celia to Norah and said cryptically, ‘You two are grand girls so your parents must have done something right, but I must say your father’s attitude towards Andy is totally wrong because he’s a decent and honest young man. A fine fellow altogether.’
‘We’ll have to send you over to Ireland as a special envoy to plead Andy’s case,’ Henry said with a grin, but in all honesty the more he saw of Andy the more he liked him. ‘Just now though I must get Norah back to the priest’s house to collect her things.’
‘What will you tell them?’ Celia asked.
‘A small lie, I’m afraid,’ Norah said. ‘See, when I arrived not knowing where you’d be, or how long it would take to find you, I told the nuns that you were staying with an aunt and had been taken ill but as Mammy was away from home saying goodbye to Dermot and visiting Katie, that she seldom sees, I thought I would come across to see how you were before we alerted Mammy.’
‘And now?’
‘Well now I’ll tell them that you have been ill and are recovering but not yet able to take the position you had secured to look after Lord Lewisham’s orphaned niece and so I am taking your place until you are fully fit. It’s as near the truth as we could get it.’
‘Yes,’ Celia agreed as she lifted the complaining baby from th
e cradle.
‘And I’m going along to add credence,’ Henry said.
‘Oh yes,’ Celia said, looking him up and down with a smile on her face. ‘You look, sound and appear so respectable that not even the priest will worry that you might be abducting Norah for the white slave trade.’
‘I’d better be off too,’ Andy said, ‘before Billy sends a search party out for me.’
‘Well I’m going to telephone for a taxi,’ Henry said. ‘And I’m quite happy for you to share it.’
It was on the tip of Andy’s tongue to say that he was all right and walk up to the tram stop, but he caught Celia’s eyes and she raised them slightly to the ceiling and he knew that look was warning him not to keep fighting Henry. And so he said, ‘That’s very good of you, sir, and thank you. If you drop me at Rocky Lane I will be very grateful.’
‘It’s not even out of my way,’ Henry said, as he made his way to the telephone in the hall. ‘And do you think you can drop this “sir” business now? I will be Henry as you are Andy?’
‘If you say so, sir, I mean Henry,’ Andy said.
Henry laughed. ‘You’ll soon get used to it,’ he said.
The door had barely closed on Henry when Norah found something urgent to do in the kitchen, taking Grace from Celia’s arms as she passed. Celia guessed it was to give her some time alone with Andy to say goodbye. Andy thought the same and he drew her into his arms and she sagged against him with a sigh of contentment and the kiss seemed to ignite a light inside Celia and she knew it was the promise of wonderful things to come.
The journey to Rocky Lane took little time in the taxi and, once Andy was away from all the gas lights at Aston Cross, Rocky Lane seemed dark as pitch for there were no lights until they reached the canal side. Few stars were seen to twinkle in the murky Birmingham skies, but there was a full moon peeping now and then around the winter clouds and in its light Andy saw someone in front of him. He guessed it was a boatie, for Rocky Lane led nowhere else, and when the moon peeped out again he saw it was Billy. He almost called out until he realised his friend wasn’t alone. He could only see in short bursts but in the moon’s orange glow he saw enough to know the figure beside him was shorter than he was, a woman, and that Billy had his arm around her.