“Do you miss anything about living there?” Maria asked her.
“Oh, yes, big time!” Theresa laughed. “When I think back to all the wonderful places I’ve been and the things I’ve done and the people I’ve met – it’s like I’m thinking about somebody else. It’s just not at all comparable to here and it never will be. But you see, when I went to America at first I found that very different and I was very homesick, and then, after years of getting used to New York, when I came back home to Ireland, I found that I’d left a bit of myself back there. I had no idea that I would miss the people and the places so much.” She raised her eyebrows and sighed. “So I know the feeling you have all too well. It’s a horrible lost kind of thing, quite hard to describe. And that’s exactly why I want to help make things easier for you. I had to learn ways to help myself, and they worked. And I now want to help you adapt and settle here, and make the best of the experience.”
Maria looked up at her. “But, the problem is I don’t want to settle here . . . I just want to go home.”
“It will only be for a year or two,” Theresa said softly. “It will go by quickly.”
Maria closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “A year or two sounds forever and it frightens me. I just cannot imagine being here all that time. To think of it makes me feel I’ll go completely mad.”
“Now, now,” Theresa said. “That’s not going to happen.”
Maria’s eyes filled up. “I don’t mean to be ungrateful to you or to my grandparents or Ambrose. You have all done your best in your own different ways to help me to settle, but this place has nothing to do with me, and I have nothing to do with it.”
“Oh, but you have – much more than you think – and I know I can help you change your feelings about it.”
“I don’t want to change my feelings, Theresa. I don’t want to give in. I want to keep feeling like this, because it means I will keep working to find ways to get back to my proper home. Back to where there are people who really know me.”
“I do understand what you’re saying, and I will do my best to help you make sure that happens but, in the meantime, I want you to let me help you function here and make the best of it. You must see, surely, Maria, that it can’t be good for you to have your mind elsewhere all the time. While it is good to plan for the future, you must still learn to live in the present.”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean . . .”
Theresa thought for a few moments, then she held her finger up and smiled. “The jigsaw,” she said, “is a good example of focussing all your thoughts on what you are doing right now, as you study the picture and then concentrate on looking at the pieces without thinking of anything else.”
“But don’t we do that all the time?” Maria said. “Like when we’re walking and talking and doing things like watching television or . . .” she shrugged, “just ordinary things.”
“No, no – so many of the things we do are automatic, and because we don’t concentrate well enough, our thoughts start wandering back onto things we’re worried or anxious about.”
There was a pause then Maria said, “Did you hear something?”
They listened for a bit, then heard Ambrose calling for Theresa. They went quickly out into the kitchen.
“I wondered where the pair of you were,” Ambrose said. “I had a lovely sleep but I’m wide awake now and I wondered if we could maybe have a game of chess.”
“A very good idea,” Theresa said, “but we’ll have to teach Maria.”
“Now you’re talking!” Ambrose clapped his hands and then rubbed them together gleefully.
Theresa looked over at Maria, and smiled. “But she’ll have to really concentrate on it to become as good as you.”
Three hours later, as she pushed Ambrose’s chair back along the bumpy laneway towards Donovans’ farmhouse, Maria realised she had learned something more than the basic rudiments of chess this afternoon.
She had learned that in certain circumstances her opinion mattered, and that certain adults listened as carefully to younger people as they did with anyone older. Theresa Callaghan, she had discovered, was one of those people. She had listened carefully to what Maria had said about not going back school, and then to the idea of her eventually finding work in a travel agent’s.
Theresa had said it was definitely an interesting and worthwhile occupation, and that she was sure her grandparents would agree as well. They drew up a list of the qualifications Maria already had that would count towards gaining a position in such a place, and then they drew up another list of the skills she was lacking in or needed to improve in. Theresa then quickly set about making a plan for her to learn the skills over the coming months.
“The first thing you need to learn to do is type,” Theresa said, “and I think if we move immediately, we might get you into the evening classes that are just starting this month. I think they do an office studies course which focuses on shorthand and typing but it also covers a bit of bookkeeping, which is also useful. And I’m sure your grandparents will be only too happy to sort you out with a typewriter to use at home.” She had looked at Maria and smiled. “Your friends back in Manchester will be surprised and delighted to receive a typed letter from you, and the evening classes and the typing practice will give you something to do during the long winter evenings at home.”
Maria’s face lit up and she said that, yes, that sounded like an excellent idea.
“Geography,” Theresa went on, “I can help you with here, and of course we’ll make sure we keep your English and Maths and French up to date.”
“But how can I pay you for teaching me?” Maria said. “And I know you have an arrangement for Ambrose, and surely it would be too much for you to teach me as well?”
“But it won’t take any more of my time,” Theresa said. “I’ll set Ambrose off on his projects first each day and, while he is reading and writing, I’ll work with you. Really, you’ll be teaching yourself a lot of it from the books – I’ll only be making sure you keep on the right track, explaining anything you’re not sure about.”
“I’ll agree on one condition,” Maria said. “As long as you let me pay you something when my father’s money is all sorted out.”
Theresa had smiled. “Well, if that happens, then we can discuss it. If not, then we won’t mention it again.” She had looked back at the things they had written down. “I’ll be in Tullamore tomorrow morning, and I’ll drop into the library or one of the schools and find out the name and phone number of the person who is running the office skills course.”
“You make it all sound easy,” Maria said, “and much more interesting than I had thought.”
“It will all work out,” Theresa said. “You just have to believe that things can be done – and most importantly – believe in yourself.”
Chapter 39
When they arrived back at the farmhouse, Eileen was alone, sitting in the armchair knitting a plum-coloured sweater for Ambrose. She listened quietly while Maria told her all that Theresa had suggested, and said they would talk about it with Maria’s grandfather later on. She then got up and brought Maria and Ambrose tea and slices of a fruit cake she had baked earlier in the afternoon. She moved about so quietly that it made Maria feel uncomfortable at times, and she was always grateful that her chatty uncle and the radio filled the silent gaps.
When she had drunk her tea, Maria said she was going back upstairs to finish writing her letters, but as she made to go, Ambrose said, “I was just wondering, Maria, do you play any music? Like, can you play any instruments at all?”
“Ambrose,” his mother’s voice had a warning tone in it, “don’t be talking so much. Let Maria go and write her letters now.”
While Maria did feel she needed some quiet on her own, she felt that if she turned away without answering his question it would reinforce her grandmother’s comment about his chatter being too much. How, she wondered, would she cope here today, and all the days that lay ahead, if it wasn’t f
or his cheery chatter?
She turned back and sat down again on one of the pine kitchen chairs. “No, Ambrose, I can’t really play any instruments. I did piano lessons when I was young, in primary school, but I started up horse-riding and that took up all my spare time along with ballet. I think you have to concentrate on one thing and keep practising to be any good, so I had to choose.”
Her grandmother went over to straighten Ambrose’s cushions behind his back. “I think you’re right,” she said quietly. “What’s the saying? A jack of all trades is master of none.” She ran an affectionate hand over Ambrose’s hair, and smiled at him.
Maria thought that was the most tender thing she had seen Eileen Donovan do since she had arrived in the house.
Ambrose laughed and said, “Sure Maria would be called a mistress of all trades, not a master, wouldn’t she?”
Her grandmother laughed and shook her head. She looked over at Maria. “What would you do with this fellow? Wouldn’t he break your heart with his questions and his contradictions?”
Maria smiled back, and thought how much younger her grandmother looked when her face was not so stern, and she felt relieved that she could see signs of her beginning to thaw out.
“There’s a riding school a few miles from here, you know,” Ambrose said to Maria. “It’s called Matthews’ Equestrian Centre. Jude is friendly with one of the sons, isn’t he, Mammy?”
“Yes,” her grandmother said. “He went to school with Harry Matthews.”
“You could go for riding lessons there,” Ambrose suggested. “They might bring me down in the car, and I could watch you riding around and leaping over the fences.”
Maria smiled at him. “Maybe next summer when the weather is better. It’s a bit miserable coming into the winter.”
Ambrose looked thoughtful. “I’d loved to have played an instrument,” he mused, “but my arms don’t have the strength for it. Would you believe that I can hardly hold the tin whistle for more than a few minutes? I always knew the fiddle and the accordion were too much for me, but you’d think that even a child in infant school could hold a tin whistle, wouldn’t you? It’s dreadful to be so weak in your arms and body.”
Maria noticed the pained look that crossed her grandmother’s face and she knew his words were going straight to her heart.
“I asked the doctor once what he thought was wrong that I couldn’t hold things,” Ambrose went on. “He wasn’t just an ordinary doctor – he was the specialist up in Dublin – the one that deals with my chest. Anyway, he just said that some people were born to make music, and some people were born to listen to it. I didn’t think it really answered the question about my arms, but I thought it was a good statement. What do you make of it?”
Eileen Donovan said nothing, she just quietly moved across the room to check if the stove needed more wood or turf.
Maria felt tears prick at her eyes as she pictured the scene in the hospital, and could only imagine how sad it was for her grandparents having to constantly listen to Ambrose questioning the doctors about his serious condition so openly. “I think the doctor might be right,” she said. Then, she forced a smile on her face. “That means I’m the same as you, Ambrose, because I’m no great musician, but I’m one of the people who love listening to it.”
He moved around in his bed now, to look to where his mother was standing by the stove. “My mother is lucky – she was born to play music. You should hear her on the piano. She’s marvellous at playing.”
When Maria looked over at her grandmother now, her face looked white and stricken.
“Will you play a few tunes for Maria sometime, Mammy?”
“You know I don’t play any more, Ambrose. I haven’t played for years.”
“Well, maybe now is the time to get back to it,” he said. “It might do you good because you’re always working so hard. It might even cheer you up a bit.”
There was a silence then she said in a choked voice. “The radio is enough music for me these days.”
“But it’s not the same as playing it, when you can do it as well as you.”
“Ambrose!” she snapped. “We’ve had more than enough music in this house. Please don’t ask me that again.”
Maria watched now as tears started to spill down her grandmother’s well-defined cheekbones and something about the way she looked reminded Maria of her mother.
“Okay, okay,” Ambrose said. “I didn’t mean to annoy you.” He picked up a comic and started to read as though the conversation had never taken place.
Eileen Donovan went over to the sink now, and after a few minutes Maria noticed her wiping her face with the towel. Something about her sadness and vulnerability made her take a chance on being rebuffed. She moved across the room and put her arm around her grandmother and was hugely relieved when she did not pull away.
“Thank you,” her grandmother said quietly. She patted Maria’s hand and then moved away. “I’ll be fine in a minute.” She rubbed her face again with the towel and then went over and put it into the basket where she kept the things for washing.
She came back to the range to where Maria was still standing. “I’m sorry now for getting so worked up, but sometimes I just can’t help it. I think it’s my age or something.”
“As long as you’re okay,” Maria said. She paused for a few moments. “I’ll go upstairs now and finish my letter off.”
Then, as Maria went to turn away, her grandmother reached out and took her hand in hers. Maria noticed also that, for the first time since she arrived, her grandmother looked her properly in the eye.
“As soon as I’m able to, I promise I’ll explain all of this to you,” Eileen said. She glanced over to where Ambrose was by the fire, now nodding off to sleep. “It’s not just me – it’s your grandfather too who finds it all very hard to talk about. Thank God Jude was too young to fully understand what happened.” She closed her eyes. “You’ve no idea what we went through . . . I know you must think I’m odd about things like not playing the piano this afternoon. But it was actually the music that started it all off. All the problems stemmed from there.”
“What do you mean?” Maria was completely baffled.
“If it hadn’t been for the piano playing,” Eileen Donovan said, “your mother would never have had to leave Ireland, the way she did.”
Chapter 40
When Maria was playing chess with Ambrose at the fireside the following Saturday night, she overheard her grandparents discussing going to Mass the following morning. Her grandmother had said it might be easier to drive into the church in Tullamore as it was bigger and not as many would know them. Her grandfather had quietly replied that it was as well to go to the small local church they always went to and get any issues over and done with there.
“It will be easier to just acknowledge people as we do every Sunday, and then go on our way as usual,” he said. “Easier than meet them for the first time in a shop or when you’re walking around the town and not prepared for it.”
Whether it had been further discussed later, Maria did not know, but when she was getting ready for bed around half past ten her grandmother said they would call her around ten o’clock to be ready for quarter past eleven mass.
“There’s no point in calling you earlier,” her grandmother said, “because you can’t have breakfast before Communion and it makes it all the harder not eating if you’re just sitting around waiting.” She gave a half-hearted smile. “Well, I don’t know what you’re like, but it makes it all the harder on the likes of Jude who’s always ready to eat the minute he gets up.”
“I think it’s a load of nonsense,” Ambrose suddenly piped up from his corner.
“What’s nonsense?” his mother asked.
“About not eating before Communion. Who decided that? There’s nothing about not eating our breakfast it in the Bible.”
“Now, Ambrose,” his father said, glancing over the top of his Irish Independent, “that’ll do. It’s not for you to be c
ommenting on the Church rules. And anyway, you’re one of the few that’s allowed to eat because of your medication.”
“Well,” Ambrose said, “I’d refuse to stick to the rules if I wasn’t allowed. It’s a load of rubbish, and even Sister Theresa agrees with me.”
“Don’t be bringing Sister Theresa into your arguments,” his mother said.
“I have my own views.”
“Pay no heed to that fellow,” Patrick said, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. “He loves to carry on like that when he has an audience.”
A huge smile broke out on Ambrose’s face now, indicating how pleased he was with the controversy he had stirred up. “Don’t you think, Maria, that the world would be a better place if everyone told the truth?”
Maria looked over at him and smiled. “It might be, Ambrose,” she said, smiling back at him, “but there’s an awful lot of people who might get into trouble for saying what they think.”
“Well said, Maria.” Her grandmother was smiling now too. “Sometimes it’s wiser to say nothing at all.”
After she had brushed her teeth and washed, Maria came back down to the kitchen in her pyjamas and dressing-gown. “Do we dress up for Mass?” she asked her grandmother.
“Some do. I usually wear a hat and coat.”
“That’s fine,” Maria said. “I’ll wear a hat and coat too.”
“Here you are, Maria,” her grandmother said now, handing her a hot water bottle. “I was just going to bring this up to you.”
As she walked up the stairs, hugging the rubber bottle to her chest, Maria pondered how easily she had settled into a routine in the house, and how quickly each evening now seemed to pass.
She had been down to Theresa’s several evenings in her first week and she had been to the cinema in Tullamore with Jude, who had also brought two friends with him – Owen and Cathy. They were Jude’s age, so a good bit older than her. Cathy was a nurse in the local hospital and Owen worked in the bank. They had seemed nice enough, although she hadn’t spoken that much to them apart from at the intermission when Cathy had chatted to her when the men went down to the shop to buy packets of crisps and lemonade. Cathy, Maria thought, was easy to talk to and very attractive with short blonde hair. Jude had obviously been talking to his friends about her, because they mentioned Manchester a few times and referred to the Donovans as her granny and granddad.
Music from Home Page 35