Across a Summer Sea

by Lyn Andrews

  ‘I’m sure she will eventually but can’t I persuade you to keep her home for a little while?’

  Mary was at a loss what to say. She had never expected him to show such interest or concern. ‘Well, perhaps,’ she answered at last.

  He turned to Tommy. ‘You will have to learn to drive the trap, lad, and the cart, and make yourself useful to Sonny.’

  The boy’s eyes lit up. ‘Can I really learn to drive, sir?’ No adult had ever shown such trust or confidence in him before.

  ‘Indeed you can. You’ll not be much help around here otherwise.’

  ‘And can I learn how to fish?’

  ‘I consider it a necessity for someone of your age.’

  ‘Oh, thanks, sir!’ Tommy gushed effusively.

  ‘Well, I think that’s enough excitement for one day. Say goodnight to Mr O’Neill now,’ Mary urged. Any more of this and she’d not be able to do anything at all with her now decidedly exuberant son.

  Katie and Tommy chorused their farewells and Lizzie gave him another shy smile before Mary thankfully ushered them towards the door.

  ‘Goodnight, sir.’

  ‘Goodnight, Mary.’

  It was only when she was halfway down the passageway to the kitchen she realised that for the first time he had called her ‘Mary’ and not ‘Mrs McGann’. He was a strange man all right, she thought, but she felt pleased. Had he accepted her? Did it mean that after her month’s trial she would be kept on? She hoped so. Somehow his use of her Christian name made her feel at home, a sensation she hadn’t experienced at Molly’s nor anywhere else since that terrible night when Frank had thrown them all out.

  The next day it was dull and overcast but the sky had a strange luminous cast to it.

  ‘We’re in for snow, I’m thinking,’ Sonny announced, coming into the kitchen with Tommy dogging his footsteps.

  ‘Oh, do you really think so?’ Mary asked, thinking about their proposed trip.

  ‘It’s gone a touch warmer and that’s always a sure sign.’

  ‘Will we still be able to go into town?’

  ‘If we don’t leave it too late. I can cope with the snow but not darkness and snow together.’

  ‘Right then, I’d better get a move on.’

  ‘Sonny’s showed me how to hitch up the trap,’ Tommy said with some pride.

  ‘He’ll be able to do it and drive in no time at all. He’s taken to it like a duck to the water, so he has,’ Sonny enthused.

  Mary was pleased. ‘Good. At least he’s making himself useful.’

  They all wrapped themselves up against the cold but Mary looked anxiously at the sky as they drove the three miles into town. Sonny brought the trap to a halt in the little square in the middle of town and helped them down.

  ‘Now, all of you stay close to me. Don’t be wandering off or stopping to talk to people.’

  ‘Why can’t we talk to anyone?’ Tommy asked.

  ‘Because they’ll only be asking questions, that’s why. Sure, before you know it they’ll have your life story and it’ll be blathered to the whole of the county.’

  ‘Do as Sonny tells you and don’t dawdle,’ Mary instructed, taking Lizzie’s hand.

  They had toured the main streets and looked at the shops and Mary had bought them some toffee to eat on the way home. She’d also purchased some more sewing thread and darning wool, a couple of papers of pins and a packet of needles, and some black braid which she intended to use to trim the skirt she’d bought in Dublin for best. The woman in the drapery shop had been openly curious and had remarked that she’d not seen her in town before. Mary had replied that she was the new housekeeper at Ballycowan Castle and that she was from Liverpool before she’d intercepted a warning look from Sonny. She’d also noticed the curious, even hostile looks cast in their direction as they’d walked along.

  ‘Best be heading back,’ Sonny said at length, casting a glance skywards. They made their way swiftly back to the square.

  Just before they reached Charleville Castle it began to snow and Sonny hastened the pony into a trot. ‘Thanks be to God it’s not far or we’d all be soaked to the skin,’ he muttered.

  For safety’s sake Mary lit the lamps that were attached to the side of the trap and prayed it wouldn’t develop into a blizzard before they got home.

  When they were a mile away from Ballycowan the visibility deteriorated. Large white flakes were falling heavily, obliterating everything, and she had pulled the collars of the children’s coats up high and urged them to pull their scarves over their hats.

  ‘Will you be all right, Sonny? You can hardly see the road,’ she asked quietly.

  ‘Don’t you worry, Mary, the pony would know its way even if it were blindfolded.’

  ‘What’s that? I thought I saw something ahead.’ She tried to peer through the curtain of white that enveloped them.

  ‘And I thought I was after hearing the sound of hooves.’

  ‘Is it another cart or trap? Will they see us in time to stop?’ She was a little afraid now.

  ‘HELLO! HELLO OUT THERE!’ Sonny shouted.

  ‘SONNY? SONNY, IS THAT YOURSELF?’ came the answering shouted question.

  ‘It’s Himself! Now what’s wrong that he’s come out to look for us?’

  Mary was relieved and yet anxious. She hoped there was nothing wrong back at the house.

  Richard O’Neill was swathed in a heavy greatcoat and a wide-brimmed hat was pulled down over his forehead. He reined in his horse as Sonny brought the pony to a standstill.

  ‘I thought you’d have had more sense than to be going into town on a day like this,’ he said.

  ‘It wasn’t snowing when we left. Sure it didn’t start until we were at the gates of Charleville and I wasn’t to know it would be so heavy.’

  ‘It’s all my fault, sir. I really should have put it off to another day,’ Mary volunteered. ‘But I’d promised the children,’ she added, by way of an excuse.

  He didn’t reply.

  ‘So what’s up now that you’ve come riding out to meet us?’ Sonny asked.

  ‘Nothing. I was worried about Mary and the children and you getting lost.’

  ‘Getting lost, is it? When did I ever get lost?’ Sonny was aggrieved.

  ‘You could have wandered off the road and into a ditch.’

  Sonny shook his head and tutted in annoyance. ‘A ditch indeed!’ he muttered under his breath.

  ‘It was very good of you to be so concerned about us, sir,’ Mary said sincerely.

  ‘Right then, let’s get home before we all freeze,’ he said, urging his horse forward into the already darkening laneway. Sonny jerked the reins for the pony to follow.

  Mrs Moran was waiting at the kitchen door and it was with relief that Mary got down and helped Tommy and Katie alight while Richard O’Neill lifted Lizzie down.

  ‘Thanks be to God! Aren’t you all soaked! Come on in, I’ve the kettle on.’

  Mary turned to Tommy. ‘Go out and help Sonny and Mr O’Neill with the horses, then come straight back. It was very good of Mr O’Neill to come and look for us,’ she added, seeing the disgruntled look appear on her son’s face. She urged him towards the door.

  ‘He went out to look for you?’ Mrs Moran said, surprised.

  ‘He did. He was afraid we would end up in a ditch,’ Mary replied, stripping off Lizzie’s wet things.

  Mrs Moran raised her eyebrows but said nothing. She’d never known him do anything like that before. But then no one like Mary McGann had ever worked here before.

  Chapter Sixteen

  THE SNOW CONTINUED TO fall for two days, making it impossible for any of them to travel anywhere. The children were the only ones who enjoyed it, making children were the only ones who enjoyed it, making frequent forays into the yard to build snowmen and pelt each other with snowballs, then returning to the kitchen cold, wet but with rosy cheeks. Even little Lizzie seemed to be enjoying herself.

  Unknown and unseen by them Richard O’Neill stood
watching their latest snow fight from his bedroom window, a smile tinged with sadness and regret hovering around his mouth. He hoped they would stay. He hoped Mary would turn out to be everything he desired in a housekeeper. He would hate having to dismiss her but would his rules eventually force her to take herself and her children back to Dublin or even Liverpool? Was he already thinking too much about her?

  He turned away and sat down in the chair near the fireplace. Moodily, he threw a few more lumps of turf on the fire. This wasn’t the life he’d planned for himself, but everything had conspired against him and the plans he’d made. His father; his education. The taste of a different life in Dublin and the sense of freedom he’d experienced while there, away from the mistrust and hatred here. And not least his own weakness in becoming involved with the beautiful Isabelle Power. Now to all intents and purposes he was a lonely outcast, but that wasn’t how he saw himself. He had a small group of friends in the community, though very few people knew that. It was essential to them all that that fact wasn’t widely known. He had contacts in other places: in other counties and Dublin and a good bit of his time was spent maintaining those contacts. Many people in the area thought he did very little except collect rents and it served his purpose for them to hold that opinion, but his days were full, his time and his mind were fully occupied. He had the good of all his fellow countrymen firmly at heart, although hardly anyone knew it or would ever believe it. That suited him very well - for now.

  He stood up and began to pace restlessly. Despite the weather he had to go out. Peter Casey was bringing a visitor from Cork and he was meeting them just outside Ferbane. No doubt they would be late, but he had to go. Besides, he was sick of this gloomy pile of old stones that passed for a house. It was a house that had seen nothing but war, rebellion, famine, death and misery. It could never be called a home in the real meaning of that word, which encompassed safety, security, hope and love. There was no love in it. No, that wasn’t true. There was Mary’s obviously heartfelt love for her children.

  It wasn’t until the following week that Tommy and Katie went to school at Ballinamere, further down the canal line, and Sonny went into town for supplies. Gradually the snow melted and was followed by what seemed to Mary weeks of steady rain. She had quickly established a daily routine of work for herself, helped by Bridie who came in three mornings a week. The house looked better and was warmer and more cheerful. The children seemed settled and content and she herself felt happier than she had in a long while. The month had passed more quickly than she would have thought possible and she waited for the summons from her employer to inform her of whether or not they were to stay.

  It came on the last Friday of March in the middle of the morning.

  ‘Himself wants to see you, Mary, in the small drawing room. I was after filling up the turf basket when he said for me to tell you,’ Sonny announced on returning to the kitchen.

  ‘Will you go back and tell him I’ll be along directly I’ve changed my dress?’ she asked, casting an anxious look at Mrs Moran, who smiled encouragingly.

  In her neat black dress, white cap and apron she knocked on the door of the small drawing room and entered.

  ‘You asked to see me, sir?’ She couldn’t keep the slight tremor of nervousness out of her voice.

  ‘I did, Mary. Please sit down.’

  But Mary was too agitated to do so.

  ‘Is it about my . . . suitability, sir?’ she blurted out, standing rather stiffly by the door.

  He turned away from her and glanced out of the window. The rain was cascading down the panes from a broken eaves shute and the yard looked sodden and miserable.

  ‘It is. Are you happy here? Have you and the children settled?’

  ‘Oh, yes, sir! I’m more than happy and the children are well. Tommy is delighted with himself, Katie likes her teacher and Lizzie has become rather a pet with both Mrs Moran and Bridie. I’m hoping to send her to school very soon. She’s better mixing with other children.’

  He turned to face her. ‘Is she really? It must be hard for her, she won’t be able to learn in the same way as the others.’

  ‘No, she can’t learn the same way. I’ve always tried my best with her but I’ve neither the time nor the skill to make much progress. Katie says Miss Collins has great patience, however.’

  ‘Well, it’s your decision. She’s your child,’ he answered rather curtly.

  Mary felt a little apprehensive at his tone but tried not to show it.

  ‘You have improved this house greatly, Mary, and you are everything you promised you were. You suit me very well so if you are agreeable I think we can say the position is yours for as long as you want it, which I hope will be many years.’

  Her face lit up. ‘Oh, thank you, sir! I’m so pleased. I don’t think I’ll ever want to leave. What else is there for me?’

  ‘It can be rather dull and quiet here.’

  ‘That’s fine by me. I’ve had more than enough of living in overcrowded houses and cities. I never want to live in one again.’

  He smiled. ‘Good. Here are your wages.’ He handed her an envelope. ‘Is there anything you need?’

  ‘There’s nothing, thank you, sir. We’re very comfortable. Should I bring some tea, as it’s such a miserable morning?’

  ‘No, thank you, Mary. Despite the weather I have to go out, the rents are due. It’s not a duty I relish, especially at this time of year.’

  ‘I understand, sir,’ she said quietly.

  He looked at her intently. ‘Do you? Do you really, Mary?’

  She met his gaze squarely and with sympathy. ‘Yes. Mrs Moran explained it to me.’

  ‘But you don’t approve?’

  ‘Whether I approve is not important, sir.’

  He nodded slowly. She was right.

  ‘Will that be all, sir?’

  ‘It will,’ he replied, turning once more back towards the window to indicate the interview was over.

  Mary let herself quietly out. There were times when she didn’t understand him at all. The way his mood changed from minute to minute was highly disconcerting.

  He was glad he’d made the decision. She’d suited very well indeed but he was aware of a disturbing feeling deep inside himself. He didn’t want her to stay just because she had brought order and comfort to this house. He was growing fond of her. He’d begun to look forward to mealtimes because she served those meals. He often heard her singing softly to herself as she went about her work and once he had surprised her when he’d returned to his room and found her making his bed. That had disturbed him, to see her in his room, the pillow he laid his head on in her hands. The next night she had haunted his dreams. He had never met a woman like her before. Of course she wasn’t of his class or religion but she had a gentleness of manner, a quiet confidence that many of the so-called ‘ladies’ of his own rank lacked. And what had his class and religion ever done for him except cause him misery? He pulled himself up sharply. ‘Stop this, you fool!’ he admonished himself. She was a married woman with three children and she was his housekeeper - nothing more!

  After Lizzie had been at school a week Miss Collins came to see Mary. She was a pleasant woman in her late twenties. Mary ushered her into the kitchen politely.

  ‘Mrs McGann, I felt I had to come and speak to you about Lizzie.’

  ‘Is she any trouble? What has she been up to?’ Mary asked with concern.

  ‘No, she’s no trouble at all. The thing is, Mrs McGann, I don’t feel as though Lizzie will benefit from being in school. I don’t mean she’s not a bright child, she is, it’s just that I don’t feel . . . qualified, shall we say, to teach her. It’s a very small country school and there is only myself and I feel she is, well, left out.’

  Mary nodded slowly. ‘I know. I sometimes have trouble myself. Katie is better with her than I am. It’s very difficult.’

  The young woman looked sympathetic. ‘It must be, Mrs McGann, and you a stranger in these parts.’

  M
ary nodded again. ‘So, you think it would be better if I kept her here, at home?’

  ‘I do. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. Your duty is to your other pupils. I wouldn’t want any of them to suffer because of Lizzie and, as you said yourself, we’re strangers in these parts. Thank you, Miss Collins, for taking the time and the trouble to come and see me personally. You must be very busy.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs McGann, for being so understanding.’

  Mary showed her out, feeling a little aggrieved. She had always spent as much time as possible with Lizzie, helped her as best she could. Well, now that she had sorted out the household she would spend more time with Lizzie. She would educate Lizzie herself. She’d find a way. Lizzie’d have enough problems when she grew up without being incapable of reading or even signing her name. No, she wasn’t having that.

  She was preoccupied as she served her employer his lunch and it did not go unnoticed.

  ‘Is there something the matter, Mary?’ he asked.

  ‘No, not really, sir,’ she replied, thinking she should pay more attention to what she was doing.

  ‘You look troubled?’ he pressed. ‘Can’t you tell me about it?’

  She sighed. ‘It’s Lizzie.’

  ‘What’s the matter with her?’

  ‘Oh, nothing really. It’s just that I had the teacher here to see me about her.’

  ‘What for?’ he demanded sharply. Had the woman come to complain?

  ‘She, Miss Collins, feels Lizzie would be better at home. I think she’s taking up too much of Miss Collins’s time, time she should spend with her other pupils. I don’t want any complaints about the children of strangers affecting the chances of the rest of the class.’

  ‘Is that what she said?’ he demanded, annoyed.

  ‘In so many words.’

  He leaned back in his chair. ‘I’m sorry, Mary, that you should be tarred with the same brush as myself, so to speak.’

  ‘But you’re not a stranger, sir.’