The Lingerie Designer

by Siobhán McKenna

  “And?” Lily prompted.

  “We just got cuter, but it was difficult. I was studying for my Leaving Cert, and Jim was working more than ever, but I think it made us realise how much we wanted to be together.”

  “Your dad obviously got over it, if you ended up married to Jim.”

  Mary blew out a deep breath. “Not my father. He wasn’t exactly a reasonable man – my mother would try to get him to see sense, but he’d violently shake the Bible in her face and blame her for the Jezebel daughter – that was me, by the way.” She laughed. “It came to a head eventually. As soon as I finished my exams, my father had organised for me to attend a secretarial course in Galway. I’d live with his sister, who was as much a Bible-basher as he was. My life was over.” She sighed.

  “What did Jim say when you told him you were being sent away?”

  “His eyes welled up. I’d never seen a grown man cry before. I didn’t think they knew how to cry – until then.” She smiled. “That’s when he asked me to marry him and I accepted.” She put both hands on her lap.

  Lily stretched back in the chair. “Your father must have been happy about that then – you’d be a respectable married woman after all.”

  Mary laughed. “Did I leave out the part where we had to go to New York first? I suppose I did. Jim had saved enough money for the two of us to go. I could audition for parts on Broadway and he wanted to study, get a qualification so he could make something of himself. He’d work too of course and then we’d get married in City Hall.”

  “What did Jim want to study?”

  “His main aim was just to get to America although he’d started to talk about being a pilot. Even though he didn’t say it, I think he missed the army – it had got into his blood. He said it didn’t really matter what he did as long as he had me by his side. ‘Maybe you’ll be spotted on Broadway, Mary!’ he’d say. ‘Who knows, we might even end up moving to Hollywood – the world is our oyster!’ I loved that about Jim – no matter how many times his father had bruised and battered him as a boy, it never broke his spirit. I can’t be sure but I think his father continued to beat him even after he came back from the army. ‘He can hurt my body, Mary, but he can’t touch my dreams,’ he told me.”

  Lily frowned. “I think your dad was very tough on him. I mean, wasn’t he impressed that Jim worked hard, did that not mean something?”

  “It wasn’t just Jim’s background my father disapproved of – Jim was a Protestant. ‘Drinkers and murdering heathens,’ Da said of Jim’s family when Mam tried to get him to see sense – then he’d hit her with the Bible. The Bible! Of all things, can you imagine? Jesus Christ himself would turn in his grave – if he had one, that is. No, there was nothing for it, we eloped to America.” Mary stood up and stretched her back. “I’d better get the dinner on and you’d better get your books out, Lily.”

  “You can’t stop there!” Lily protested. “I’ve never met anyone who’s eloped before. I’m not even sure I know what that is actually.”

  “We ran off to get married, except we didn’t get married straight away, we lived in sin. In America, nobody cared what we did and that felt wonderful. I did write to my mother to let her know I was all right and that I was going to be a famous actress and I’d send her an airline ticket to come and see me in my first show.”

  “Was she happy for you?”

  “I don’t know, I never heard back from her. I found out later my father hid the letters – said I was dead to them, for bringing shame on the family.”

  “Jeeze, that man seriously needed to lighten up.”

  Mary realised it must be hard for a modern teenager to understand the small-town life of rural Ireland in the sixties.

  “America wasn’t exactly as we expected. I got a job as a waitress and went to lots of auditions – I got a part in an off-Broadway production, to start. Eventually, I landed a role in a Broadway musical. Jim and me danced around our tiny rented living room when I got the news. ‘This is it, Mary, our dreams, they’re coming together! I love you, Mary, you are the most beautiful woman I ever laid my eyes on!’”

  It was only a small part. It was a start, but not enough to buy my mam a ticket to America. Jim was working on the buildings and studying at night. God love him, I’d find him asleep over his books more often than not. Little did we know everything was about to change. I got word from a friend back home that Mam had taken poorly.” Mary shook her head at the memory. “I think Jim felt guilty about taking me away and not being able to provide for me. He asked me how I’d feel about him joining the US Marines . . .” She sighed. “It appeared like the perfect solution at the time. This was his way of fixing things, you see. He’d be trained by the Marines while earning a good wage too.”

  Mary stood and went to the dining room to retrieve an old photo album from the sideboard. Returning to the kitchen, she laid it out on the table and opened a page with a picture of Jim Devine in full dress uniform.

  It didn’t matter how many years had passed, the same feelings of overwhelming sadness engulfed her every time she thought of that fateful day when she arrived home to see James Devine in his blues and sporting a fresh crew-cut.

  Silence fell in the kitchen – Lily didn’t ask any more questions. Mary was in a different timeline, reliving the first steps of the countdown to losing the love of her life.

  “Looking back it all seems like a cruel twist of fate – or karma, as you young ones say. He’d got US residency soon after we arrived, something to do with his service record in the British army – I believe that stood to him. A born Marine, they called him. Because his papers were all in order and Jim had field experience, they signed him up straight away. They’d even train him as a pilot. They saw something in my Jim, but to me he was a gentle, loving man, just my Jimmy.”

  A heavy silence fell between them. Lily took Mary’s hands in hers, unsure of what to say.

  “The thing was the Americans were already pulling out of Vietnam. The US involvement was all but over, or so we thought. I could continue my acting career – we could even visit home when we’d saved enough money. We’d give our future children the loving, comfortable home that neither of us ever had.” Mary nodded her head. “Some time passed, Jim’s career was flying – literally – and everything was looking up. Until I got a telegram from my brother, Liam. Mam was dying. As I was the only daughter, it was my duty to give up this American nonsense and come home. He was sure if he put in a good word for me and I apologised to our father that he’d find it in his Christian heart to forgive me. That’s what Christ would do and he was sure Da would do the same.” Mary’s expression darkened.

  “What did you do?”

  “I wrote back, told them I’d be home as soon as I could, to nurse Mam. Jim had already sorted out the money. I told them to be prepared because, well, by then I was a mother myself.” Mary paused.

  “Wow, when did that happen? I can imagine your old man’s face when he read that!” Lily clapped excitedly before cutting another slice of cake from what was left of it. “This cake is awfully good for sugar-free, Marma.”

  “The sponge is sugarless, but the chocolate is real, I can’t stand that carob stuff. I only had a little bit anyway.” Mary looked contrite.

  “But go on, Marma! What happened next?”

  “It was a shock to Jim and me too, but we were happy. We were engaged anyway. I think we only put off marrying in the hopes my family would eventually come round. We took ourselves to City Hall, downtown New York, and got married before the baby was born. Jim said we could have a proper church wedding soon, he’d even become a Catholic, but I didn’t care about any of that. I was now Mrs James Devine and soon we were to be a proper family. In spite of everything, I did miss my family, especially my mother. I never did make it home before she died though.”

  “Oh no!” Lily’s eyes filled with tears. “You never saw your mam again?”

  “No. I got a phone call from her, much to my father’s disapproval, but the
family priest had got him to see it was a dying woman’s wish. Mam said my brother had showed her all the letters Father had hidden from her. She thanked me for not forgetting her and she was sorry for not standing up to my father better. For once, he was silent in the background. Then she said I wasn’t to waste my money coming back to Ireland because she wouldn’t last and my life was in America now. ‘There’s nothing here for bright lights like you and Jim,’ she said. ‘Cherish your child, Mary, they’re a gift from God’ . . . and that was it, she died that night.”

  Both Lily and Mary blew their noses.

  “That’s beautiful, it’s just so sad!” Lily smiled through her tears.

  “It was – it broke my heart. I got a letter from my eldest brother saying she passed away peacefully. When he’d told Da that I was on my way and I had a chiseller, his reaction wasn’t the Christ-like one we’d hoped for. My father said it was I who’d killed my mother with my carry-on – she couldn’t bear the looks of disgust from the neighbours. Mam’s engagement and wedding rings were wrapped in a tissue with the letter.” Mary looked down at her hand where she still wore her mother’s rings. “He reckoned Da would kill him when he realised they were missing, but he thought it was fitting I should have them. And then he said goodbye, that he wasn’t much of a letter-writer and he didn’t have a phone in his new house. He said he didn’t want to upset Father and have him die too, so he hoped I understood, but I wouldn’t hear from him again either.”

  “Prick,” Lily said.

  “Lily, mind your language!” Mary scolded. “Ah, sure, I was never that close to any of my brothers anyway and I’d other things on my mind. Jim was going to Vietnam again.”

  They sat for a moment, before Mary patted the back of Lily’s hands in reassurance.

  “It must have been hard, when he was killed – on you and Helen, I mean.”

  “Helen was just a baby. He came back from his first tour without a bother. That’s when that photo was taken, on Long Island.” Mary pointed to a black-and-white photo of herself and Jim. Jim had one arm around his wife, the other proudly holding his baby girl. “He idolised Helen, treated her as though she were a china doll.”

  Mary paused again, her expression so deeply sad that Lily kept quiet.

  “Second time around we weren’t so lucky. Jim was on a search and rescue mission for downed B-52 crews. But his Huey was shot down by Viet Cong guerrillas – he was killed instantly, I was told.”

  “Huey?” Lily bit her lower lip.

  “It’s the nickname for the helicopters they used. You know, the ones you see in all those Vietnam films.” Mary turned the page of the album and pointed to a different picture. “That was the last photo taken of him.”

  This photo was colour. Jim Devine was kneeling down beside Helen, who sat holding an ice-cream cone and squinting at the camera. She wore a white cotton dress and a large satin bow in her hair.

  Mary closed the album, which brought them both back to the present, leaving Jim frozen in time.

  “Jim was amongst the last of the US casualties in Vietnam. Without Jim, there was nothing for a young widow and her child in New York, so I packed up our home and moved back to Ireland.”

  “Back to your family?” Lily asked.

  Mary laughed. “Not at all, girl. I moved to Dublin. I wrote to my family to let them know what had happened though no doubt they already knew. I got a single-page reply from my eldest brother saying that nothing had changed but he wished me well and hoped the Americans would look after me financially, which they did. I rang home when I got settled in Dublin, gave the reconciliation one last shot. But my family had frozen me out.”

  “So that was it!” Lily, said, stunned by the unfairness of it all.

  “That was it. No more America, no more Broadway, but I had Helen and a bank of happy memories.”

  A shiver ran down Lily’s spine. The light was fading and the evening chilled. “I just can’t imagine what that must have been like – I mean Ireland looked seriously depressing in those days.” She rubbed her hands together to get some warmth into her.

  “It wasn’t the worst.” Mary looked away. She remembered the suspicion, the aloofness of her new neighbours, who didn’t know what to make of the new, single mother who’d come from nowhere. She might as well have beamed down from Mars in their eyes. “But all’s well that ends well – it all worked out in the end.”

  The doorbell chimed.

  Mary jumped, startled by the sound. “That’ll be Cyril and I haven’t a spud peeled!”

  “I can hardly move with all that cake.” Lily rubbed her belly.

  Mary turned the lights, heating and radio on after she let Cyril in. “Myself and Lily, we completely lost track of time, Cyril.” She winked at Lily as she moved over to the sink to peel the vegetables.

  “Do you know, Cyril, you’ve got one hell of a great lady?” said Lily as she started to clear away the remains of the cake and the cold teacups.

  “Indeed I do, Lily, and a younger woman at that too!” He laughed. “Mary, can I give you a hand with that?”

  Lily put the teacups in the sink and gave Mary a hug.

  “No, Cyril, you sit down and keep me company,” said Mary. “And what was the hug for, Lily?”

  “Just for being you. I’ll be upstairs, leave you two alone.” She gave Cyril a cheeky smile.

  Mary continued with her peeling while Cyril chatted about his day. He turned the pages of his newspaper as he talked. He’d been so busy running errands he hadn’t had a chance to read it.

  Mary savoured the moment. Her home was alive again, with youth and happiness. She’d come through all the heartaches and even found love again, as she approached her sunset years.

  But best of all was who had knocked on her door. Her secret visitor – a gift from God. She was bursting to share her news, but she’d have to talk to Helen first, face to face, as soon as she got back from Vietnam.

  Yes, life was coming together for the Devine family, a happy ending at last.

  Chapter 38

  On arrival at Phu Bai airfield, Helen was very quiet. When Poppy asked if she was okay, she simply yawned and claimed jetlag.

  “It’s humid, isn’t it?” She pulled at her shirt collar.

  “Yes, hopefully the sun will make an appearance, I could do with a bit of colour.” Poppy rolled up her sleeves.

  Helen looked into the sky and squinted. “Doubt it.”

  “Listen, Helen, I know this isn’t easy for you . . .”

  Helen shrugged and feigned a look of confusion. “I’m fine.”

  “Well, I know time was tight but I managed to do a bit of research.” Poppy took a deep breath. “There are a lot of Vietnam War tours on offer and, em, to be honest, they looked kind of tacky. I wasn’t sure they’d be your cup of tea.”

  Helen eyed her. “I told you, Pops, it’s fine and I promise I won’t smack any rubber-neckers.” She took out her phone to see if she had signal.

  “Ah, see, there’s the thing. I thought it’d be hard for you to handle tourists gawking, taking photos and buying war memorabilia from roadside hawkers. People that maybe are a little insensitive to someone whose life was directly affected by the war.”

  “That someone being me, I suppose.”

  “Obviously.” Poppy rolled her eyes. “So we’re joining a group from the States for part of their trip. They’re mainly returning veterans and their families.”

  “Devine, Power, party of two! Devine, Power!” a man holding a clipboard called out.

  “That’s us, Helen Devine, Poppy Power.” Poppy waved before she turned back to Helen. “It has a ring to it, doesn’t it? Devine Power!” she laughed.

  “Yeah, we sound like a girl band.”

  The stocky man extended his hand to greet them. “Mike King, this way please.”

  He strode ahead of them. He had a mop of white hair that was cut tight to his tanned neck and despite having a twenty-year head-start on Helen, his body fat percentage was probably
lower than her UK shoe size.

  As they boarded a dark green minivan, Helen felt a tinge of trepidation creep up on her. She’d closed off thoughts of her father being a military man, dying in a war he shouldn’t have volunteered to be part of. If she was being honest, she was angry. Angry he chose to go to war, angry he died on the other side of the world, angry he left Mary alone, angry she’d no memories of a father other than a couple of faded photos. She might have said she was angry with the US politicians of the era but the fact was she was angry with Jim Devine – but she’d never admit that, not even to herself. And now she had to face it, sitting on a stuffy bus.

  They watched village life as they passed through small towns in their minivan. Some people waved at them, others kept their heads down and went about their daily tasks. One woman sat barefoot as she straddled a thick bamboo stump. Bit by bit she was trimming off shavings with a handheld blade.

  A little further along the van slowed down behind an ox-cart as it passed two farmers with a pig by their feet. The animal, separated from its herd, lay prone on the dirt verge. With all trotters bound together by rope, its breathing laboured hard. Poppy couldn’t take her eyes off the rapid rise and fall of its belly. She wished his suffering would end and that she could in some way share the animal’s burden, not leaving him alone. He looked petrified as he waited to die. Out of respect for the passing tourists, the farmers held off the kill and stood to block the view of the pig from the road. Helen covered Poppy’s eyes before pulling her head into her shoulder but it was too late. Poppy had already seen too much. The bus trundled along but after just a few metres it stalled to give way to an old man cycling unsteadily at the road’s edge. Then they heard a bloodcurdling shriek, an unmerciful sound. Helen held Poppy closer, willing the high-pitched scream to stop. They had never heard that noise before but they knew it was the sound of the pig dying of a severed throat.

  Helen knew she would never forget that sound.