Across a Summer Sea

by Lyn Andrews

  She could feel his breath on her face and she tried to draw back. ‘No! No, I . . . I don’t miss him, not in that way!’ she cried.

  ‘Ah, don’t be codding me! You’re a young, healthy woman with only three kids, there’s plenty of life in you yet. And with a proper man . . .’

  She pushed him away. ‘Stop it! I’ve never done anything to encourage you! Think about Rita and your children. I could never hurt Rita!’ She prayed he wouldn’t do anything that would make her have to fight him. She hadn’t the strength; she felt too ill.

  To her great relief he turned abruptly away. ‘Do you know what you are, Mary McGann? You’re a prick-teaser! Ever since you came here you’ve been flaunting yourself. Don’t think I haven’t noticed it even if that auld one in there hasn’t!’

  ‘I’ve done no such thing! How can you say such . . . such crude and unjust things about me?’ she cried, her cheeks burning at his vulgar insinuations.

  ‘Go to hell! I hope you’re as sick as a pig in the morning! Just you stay away from me in the future!’ he snarled and stormed back inside.

  Mary clutched the broken banister rail for support. She felt terrible. She had sensed only that he didn’t like her, but all the time he had been watching her, waiting for an opportunity . . . Now, she realised, she had made an enemy. She dragged herself back into the room and poured herself a mug of water from the big enamel jug on the top of the dresser. At least he’d get his wish, she felt as ‘sick as a pig’ already.

  She awoke next morning with her head pounding and her mouth dry and foul-tasting. She raised herself on one elbow and groaned.

  ‘I can see ye all had a good time!’ Molly held out a mug.

  ‘Oh, I’m never going to touch port wine ever again. What is it?’ she moaned.

  ‘A “hair of the dog”. Drink it down in one gulp and ye’ll be as right as rain!’

  Mary took the mug but baulked at the smell of the whiskey. ‘Oh, Aunt Molly, I . . . I can’t face it! I can’t face anything!’

  ‘Get it down you, girl, it’s the only thing!’ Molly urged.

  Taking a deep breath Mary drained the mug and then began to cough and splutter.

  ‘Mam, are you sick?’ Katie asked worriedly.

  ‘She’ll be grand in a few minutes. Now, off with ye and Noreen to Kennedy’s bake shop and don’t let them palm ye off with the catskin! I’ll have no cinders from the oven in the crust of my bread! And no trick-acting on the way back or ye’ll have the bread destroyed altogether.’

  Mary lay down again while Molly chattered on nineteen to the dozen about the amount of work there was to be done that day, which was the busiest of the entire week.

  She closed her eyes and remembered what had happened with Davy. She was certain she had never given him any encouragement. Oh, if only she hadn’t drunk so much, she would have been safely in bed and asleep before he’d even come in. He’d been drinking too, she’d smelled it on his breath. What should she do now? She couldn’t go back to Liverpool, that was certain. And she had nowhere else to go. Nowhere. She was surrounded by family yet she had never felt more alone. Wearily she acknowledged she would just have to stay here and try to keep out of his way.

  Chapter Ten

  MOLLY’S ‘CURE’ HAD WORKED but Mary continued to worry about her situation all day. A couple of the other women had covered for her at work so she could take Tommy to the Mater hospital. While she sat waiting for him to be checked over, she had been utterly preoccupied, and it was no better later as she helped Molly and Rita with the chores: her mind had not been fully on the tasks, which had prompted her aunt to ask, ‘Mary, what ails ye?’

  ‘Nothing. Oh, I suppose it’s thinking about all the work we’ve to do,’ she’d replied.

  That evening Rita and Davy went out and she was thankful. Davy hadn’t spoken a word to her all day but she’d caught the venomous looks he’d shot at her and had prayed that the other women hadn’t noticed. It made her feel very uncomfortable.

  ‘I’ll be taking to my bed early tonight,’ Molly announced after they had finished tidying up and had got the children settled.

  ‘So will I, I still haven’t got over last night,’ Mary replied. ‘But first I must write to Nellie, it’s almost two weeks since her last letter arrived and she’ll think I’ve forgotten all about them.’

  ‘Sure, she’ll think no such thing! Won’t she have enough on her plate? It seems to be nothing but work and expense on Saturdays or maybe it’s just old and crabby I’m getting.’

  Mary smiled at her. ‘You’re certainly not crabby. Don’t you have enough to put up with with all of us living on top of you when you should be having some peace and quiet?’

  ‘Ah, what would I do with peace and quiet? I’d be lonely. I’d miss ye all,’ Molly admitted with a wry smile.

  Mary got the writing materials and sat at the table by the window. She would tell Nellie that she was well and happy and so were the children. It wasn’t strictly the truth, of course. She was well but not happy, Davy had seen to that. She chewed the end of the pen thoughtfully. Was it in fact possible to go back to Liverpool? Should she try again to talk some sense into Frank? Would he relent? After all, she had been true to her word. She had left. She looked around the room. It was warm and cheerful and peaceful and she was fond of Molly, Rita and her young cousins. She enjoyed working and having her own money. Oh, if only Davy hadn’t got the wrong idea about her. No, she really didn’t want to go back to Liverpool and Frank, nor did she want to leave here, but what was she to do?

  She finally made up her mind after pondering the situation for a long while - so long that Molly asked her did she intend to write that letter at all or was she just trying to devour the only pen they possessed? She’d made up her mind to talk to Davy, have it out with him and clear the air so life here would be comfortable. She knew however it would be no use doing so when he and Rita finally came home tonight. If his past record was anything to go by he would be half drunk and she had no intention of trying to talk sense into him when he was in that state. No, she would have to find an opportunity tomorrow.

  That opportunity presented itself when next morning after Mass Molly declared that, as it was a fine day, she and Rita would take the children up to St Stephen’s Green, then do some window shopping in Grafton Street. Window shopping was all they could afford with the prices they charged in the shops along that street, she added. Full of relief mixed with trepidation, Mary declined the invitation to join them, saying reluctantly that she had a mound of mending to do.

  When they’d gone she put on the kettle and put two mugs on the table. Davy was ignoring her, studiously reading his newspaper. Well, it was now or never, she thought, taking a deep breath.

  ‘Davy, put down that paper and have this tea. I want to talk to you,’ she announced firmly.

  ‘What about? I’ve nothing to say to you,’ he said sullenly, rattling the paper to show his annoyance.

  ‘But I’ve plenty to say to you. Put down that paper.’ Unconsciously she placed her hands on her hips and the gesture startled him. He’d never seen her look so forceful.

  ‘So, say your piece,’ he snapped.

  ‘You know how fond I am of Molly and Rita and all the children and I don’t want to have to leave here. Davy, I’ve never given you any encouragement. Never deliberately “flaunted myself”. My marriage to Frank might not have worked out, but that wasn’t my fault and I take the vows I made on my wedding day very seriously, including “forsaking all others”.’

  ‘Well, you certainly don’t give that impression!’ he interrupted angrily. He wasn’t having her giving out to him like this. Who did she think she was?

  ‘Davy, what have I done? What have I said to make you think like that?’ she demanded.

  ‘Oh, don’t you play the innocent, Mary!’

  ‘I’m not! I honestly don’t know. Tell me?’

  He looked down at his boots. ‘If you don’t know, sure I’m not after telling you.’

&n
bsp; ‘Oh, you’re impossible! I’ve never thought of you like . . . like that. To me you’re Rita’s husband and that’s all. I’m not looking for anything else from you except . . . friendship.’

  ‘Friendship! Ah, that’s a laugh! Aren’t you always giving me the eye, pushing past me, making sure you touch me. I know what you’re at, Mary, and it’s not friendship!’

  She could see it was useless. ‘Well, I don’t care what you think, Davy, I know I don’t do any of those things. If we’re going to continue to live under the same roof we’d better come to some agreement. I won’t have Molly or Rita upset and I don’t want a repeat of the other night’s performance.’

  He stood up, his face red and angry. ‘You don’t want a repeat performance as you call it! You won’t have Rita or the auld one upset! You come here, running away from your husband on some half-baked excuse, which sounds to me as though you were up to your tricks over there, and—’

  Mary lost her temper. ‘Running away from my husband! My tricks! How dare you, Davy! You know nothing at all of what went on!’

  ‘I know enough,’ he shouted.

  She tried again. ‘Shouting is getting us nowhere. If . . . if I’ve ever given you the wrong impression then I’m sorry, what else can I say? I never meant to. Can’t we put it all behind us, forget all the things that have been said and done and start again? I just want to go on living here in peace. Please, Davy?’

  He stared at her. She was a beautiful woman and try though he might he knew he wanted her and wouldn’t rest until he had her. No matter how prim and proper she acted, just being in the same room as her drove him mad. It wasn’t that he didn’t love Rita, he did, but Mary was like a drug to his senses and he couldn’t get her out of his mind. He didn’t know why she had this effect on him, she just did, and there was nothing he could do about it. There was only one solution. She had to leave.

  ‘It won’t work, Mary. I . . . I can’t help how I feel.’

  Mary was taken aback. All the anger seemed to have left him.

  ‘Davy, please?’ she tried again.

  ‘Mary, don’t you know how beautiful you are? Don’t you know the effect you have on a man?’ he pleaded.

  She shook her head. ‘No! No, I’m not beautiful!’

  He could stand it no longer. Quickly he crossed the room and took her in his arms, his desire for her so strong, so overwhelming, he threw all caution to the winds.

  ‘Mary, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen!’

  Horrified, she started to struggle. ‘No! No! You can’t do this, Davy!’

  ‘Mary, I want you! I’ve wanted you from the minute I saw you!’

  He was strong and he was crushing her but she continued to struggle. Then his lips were pressing against hers, cutting off her protests and her very breath. She had to do something to stop him, she couldn’t let this happen, she wouldn’t let it happen! With all the strength she could muster she brought her knee up and caught him hard in the groin.

  ‘You bitch!’ he groaned, doubling up in pain and staggering away from her. ‘You teasing, tormenting little whore!’

  She was fighting for her breath. ‘Davy, I . . . had to! Don’t you understand I couldn’t . . . let you . . .’

  Tears of agony stung his eyes. No one had ever done this to him before, not even a feller in a street fight! He was beside himself with rage and humiliation. God, how he hated her!

  Mary bit her lip. What should she do? Try to help him? Try to ease him into a chair or just leave him?

  Pride gave him strength and he at last managed to straighten up and cling to the back of a chair. ‘Get out, you bitch! You’re not staying here a minute longer! You’re a whore, a common tart even though you act the innocent. It’s all part of your act. The deserted wife, butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth! Like hell! Get out or I’ll tell the auld one just what kind of a baggage you really are and don’t think Rita will believe you either! She’ll believe me!’

  Mary paled and began to shake. Oh, God! Now what was she to do? There was no doubting him. He would tell Molly and Rita. In that moment she began to hate Frank. This was all his fault. He had driven her away and into this mess. She raised a shaking hand to her face. Was she beautiful? Richie had said the same thing. She’d never believed she was. At best she’d only ever thought she was attractive and if she was . . . well, it was a curse if this was the outcome. But what was she to do?

  With Davy still glaring at her, she snatched her shawl from its peg on the wall, wrapped it around herself and ran from the room. She tumbled out of the front door into the street, her mind racing in panic. Was she destined to wander the streets of Dublin, of the world? Would she never find peace and security for herself and her children?

  She kept away from the main roads, she didn’t want to meet anyone she knew, especially not Molly, Rita and the children returning from their outing. Without really noticing where she was going she crossed the bridge at the bottom of Winetavern Street and wandered along the Quays towards the docks, silent on this Sunday afternoon, the cranes pointing their arms towards the duck-egg-blue sky. Did she have no choice but to return to Liverpool now? But what awaited her there? Frank still hostile and unforgiving? A life of being shunted from neighbour to neighbour? Being spoken of with pity at her failure? No, not that. She couldn’t face it. But she had very little money: she now wished she hadn’t spent so much on the new clothes or the night out that had brought this whole disaster to a head. And what about the children? They had only just got used to living here and now she would have to uproot them yet again. They wouldn’t understand, no matter how hard she tried to explain. But explain what? And there was the matter of explaining to Molly. Her head began to ache and she felt cold, so very cold.

  When she finally reached the North Wall she stopped and sank down on a low stone capstan. The wind coming in from the estuary was cold and damp and she knew that soon darkness would begin to fall. It was a long walk back and she had still come to no decision. Perhaps if she could get a hot drink she would feel better, less numb and disorientated. She got up and looked around. A little further along there was a watchman’s hut; she would ask if there was a bit of a café anywhere that might be open.

  The old watchman looked at her with watery eyes and indicated that she come closer.

  ‘Come ye here to the brazier, girl, and warm yourself. ’Tis a raw day.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she murmured, holding out her cold hands to the flames.

  ‘What has ye wandering down here at all?’

  ‘I . . . I was out walking. I needed to think.’

  ‘Have ye no home to go to?’

  ‘I have, but . . . Is there anywhere near where I can get a cup of tea? It’s a long walk back.’

  ‘There’s Ma Murphy’s beyond a piece. She does stay open late, she’ll give ye a cup of tea.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You’re no Dub with that accent on ye,’ he commented.

  She managed a smile. ‘No, I’m from Liverpool and I think I might have to go back there.’

  ‘I was in it once meself, years ago now, and a desperate place it is. The cholera was ragin’ and I was on me way to America. I had the fare saved and wasn’t I robbed of it by a cut-throat blackguard who told me he’d get me a fine cheap place to lay me head while I was waitin’ on a ship?’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that. We’re not all like that.’

  ‘So it’s back here I ended. If I were ye I’d not go back there.’

  ‘I might take your advice. Thanks for the warm, I’ll be off now to Ma Murphy’s.’ She nodded and walked away in the direction he’d indicated. Maybe his advice was good. Maybe she’d feel better after a hot drink.

  A sharp shower of rain made her duck into the doorway of a closed newsagent’s shop and as she pressed herself into the recess she looked idly into the side window where there were some notices pinned up. She read of items for sale, workmen for hire and then her attention was caught by a neatly printed ca
rd.

  Housekeeper required. Must be hard-working, reliable, honest and very discreet. Experience essential. Salary to be arranged. Accommodation provided to the right applicant. Contact Mr Richard O’Neill, Ballycowan Castle, Tullamore, King’s County.

  A housekeeper. She would be capable of that. Accommodation provided. Ballycowan Castle sounded very grand and where exactly was King’s County? Obviously it was in the country but how far was it from Dublin? Hope began to creep over her. Such a position would solve all her problems, but would she be the ‘right applicant’? And what if she didn’t get it? Well, what had she to lose? If all else failed then she would have to go back to Liverpool but at least she could try. Surely Molly wouldn’t object to that? The position of housekeeper was a far better one than factory hand. She read the notice again, memorising each word, then, pulling her shawl more closely around her, she stepped out into the rain. She’d forgo the tea. She’d go straight back and tell Molly that tomorrow morning she was going to seek a new position. She’d leave the children with Molly until she knew just what the future held.

  Chapter Eleven

  MOLLY WAS SURPRISED AND relieved to see her. ‘Mary, where have ye been and would ye look at the state of ye! Aren’t ye soaked to the skin!’look at the state of ye! Aren’t ye soaked to the skin!’

  ‘I know. But it wasn’t raining when I went out and I walked further than I intended to. I needed time to think.’ She glanced quickly at Davy who was once more sitting in the chair reading his newspaper. He didn’t look up and she breathed a little easier.

  ‘Get those wet things off now or you’ll catch pneumonia. Here, I’ve just wet the tea and I’ll put a drop of whiskey in it to ward off the cold,’ Rita said.

  ‘Thanks, but I think I’ve had enough of spirits. Just the tea will do. I’ll get changed and then . . . well, I’ve something to tell you.’