The Ballroom on Magnolia Street

by Sharon Owens

  ‘I’m feeling a little fragile, Johnny. It’s been lovely but I’ll head on now.’

  ‘Would you like to go for a walk, Marion? To get some fresh air?’

  ‘No, I’m fine. Thanks, Johnny. I’m going home.’

  They stood up and he helped her into her jacket. Johnny gave all the waitresses a tenner each and told them they were great girls, and they were delighted with him. Marion wondered again why he hadn’t used his charm to get himself a wife. Maybe Johnny did derive a certain pleasure from keeping the men of Belfast in a permanent state of anxiety. (That was Eddy’s theory.) As they were going through the foyer, someone called out to them.

  ‘Mum!’

  Johnny and Marion looked up to see Declan standing there with Emily and Eve. His black quiff was the mirror-image of Johnny’s. Johnny said nothing but he looked thoughtfully at Declan, as if seeing him for the first time. There was a tangible silence in the air. Marion’s heart seemed to turn inside out.

  ‘Eloise is powdering her nose,’ Declan explained. ‘We’re waiting for her.’

  ‘Declan, I didn’t see you there,’ Marion croaked. ‘Your father’s gone already.’ Surely Johnny hasn’t twigged, she thought. God knows, he’s seen Declan enough times before now in the ballroom.

  ‘Gone where?’ asked Declan brightly.

  ‘He went home already,’ said Marion, although her mouth had dried up. The words came out in a husky rasp. A hateful red flush began to burn on her neck, and slowly spread up towards her cheeks. She pulled some of her lovely blonde curls forward in an attempt to hide her blushes, and took her pink tweed jacket off and folded it over her arm. ‘Isn’t it cruelly hot in here?’ she said quietly.

  ‘Dad went home? Without you?’ The concept was unthinkable to Declan.

  ‘He had a headache, pet. I didn’t have any wine myself, so I could have taken the girls home. Sorry to bring you out for nothing. I should have thought to call you…’

  ‘It’s okay, Mum. Are you leaving now, too?’

  ‘Yes, I am. My car’s just outside.’ She stepped forward and opened one of the heavy glass doors, and a cool breeze flowed in and soothed her bright red face.

  ‘Give your grandparents my best wishes, Mr Hogan,’ said Declan, politely.

  ‘Thank you, Declan. I will,’ he said.

  Then, Eloise joined the little group and they went out together, laughing and joking.

  Johnny turned to Marion. She couldn’t tell if he was even remotely suspicious, or if he could be so self-obsessed that he had never wondered about her pregnancy. But she couldn’t speak to him. Her throat had dried up completely. They waved to Declan and his sisters as they drove away.

  When they had gone, Johnny turned to Marion again and said, ‘Is there something wrong?’

  ‘What do you mean? What could be wrong?’

  ‘You don’t look well.’

  ‘That’s a first. You, worrying about my health.’

  ‘Are you going to faint?’

  ‘No, I’m exhausted, if you must know. For heaven’s sake, I thought I was going to be killed by that madman. How would you feel?’

  She was wondering if she should simply make a dash for the car, and blank out this awful moment from her memory. Oh, why did she leave Eddy in the first place? What had she ever seen in Johnny? And when would the guilt that hung around her neck like a stone, ever go away?

  ‘Declan doesn’t look like Eddy much, does he?’ said Johnny. ‘He’s a good-looking boy.’

  ‘Don’t be bitchy, Johnny. It doesn’t suit you.’ She made a huge effort to act normally, putting the pink jacket back on and making for the doors.

  ‘How long were you married to Greenwood when Declan was born?’

  ‘Nine months,’ she whispered.

  ‘Are you sure?’ He was trying to work it out in his head. Was it July, or August or September? He couldn’t remember. But Marion’s horrified expression told him what he wanted to know. He decided to chance it. ‘He’s my son, isn’t he?’

  ‘No! He’s not. Are you crazy?’

  ‘Marion, he is. Admit it.’

  ‘He’s Eddy’s. He was born early, that’s all.’

  ‘I thought you said nine months?’

  ‘Oh, God, leave me alone,’ she snapped. ‘What does it matter? You didn’t want to marry me anyway.’

  ‘So, he is mine?’ There was a lengthy pause.

  And then she said, ‘Yes. He is.’

  Marion didn’t expect him to cry, but he did. Johnny thought he had no more reserves of emotion left, after the drama of Eileen’s kidnapping. But he had. He staggered out through the hotel doors and stood in the car park with his hands over his face. Tears flowed down his cheeks and soaked his silver-tipped shirt collar. Marion linked arms with him and told him she was sorry, over and over again. The two of them idled round the hotel gardens, and eventually found a little bench in the shelter of a huge oak tree. Johnny wept, and smoked, and wept again. Sometimes his shoulders shook with noisy sobs and sometimes he cried silent tears as he gazed up at the sky.

  ‘Why?’ he said. ‘God in heaven! Why did you not tell me?’

  ‘I couldn’t. I was in a pure panic, at the time. I couldn’t think straight.’

  ‘But, why? You knew I would have done the decent thing!’

  ‘I did not know. You had no notion of getting married. You never even talked about getting engaged. Five years, we were together.’

  ‘I would have married you. I would have, Marion.’

  ‘I couldn’t take that chance. Once the news was out, it would be too late to marry anybody. No other man would have wanted an unwed mother, Johnny. And I didn’t want to be alone.’

  ‘I had a right to know.’

  ‘Look, I was going to tell you. It was the day of the robbery.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I was all set to tell you. That’s why I came into the ballroom that night. Anyway, the whole place was in chaos for days. You know it was. And afterwards, I lost the courage. Time was running out for me.’

  ‘I can’t believe it. You should have told me, Marion.’

  ‘How many times do I have to explain? I couldn’t tell you. You have no idea how hard it is to say those two little words: I’m pregnant. Why didn’t you notice I was ill? Why is this all my responsibility?’

  ‘I’m sorry. You were always kind of pale. I didn’t notice.’

  ‘It’s all in the past,, now, Johnny.’

  ‘So that’s why you married Greenwood so suddenly. And I thought you were just trying to make me jealous.’

  ‘Johnny, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t think you’d care. Can’t you see? I dropped all kinds of hints about settling down. You never once picked up on them. You would have made a terrible father, anyway. It was a kind of miracle, when the robbery stopped me from telling you.’

  ‘How can you say that? We would have made a great couple, Marion. We could have set the world on fire. We could have had a chain of dance halls!’

  ‘Oh, please! I didn’t want that kind of life, Johnny. Not with a baby on the way. Will you never understand? I wanted a quiet life, and a husband who was at home with me in the evenings.’

  ‘Did you love Greenwood?’

  ‘Not in the beginning. Not in the way I loved you.’

  ‘But, then you did?’

  ‘Yes. He was so kind. He knows me, Johnny. He cares about every little thing I do and feel.’

  ‘And you still love him?’

  ‘Yes, I do. More than ever. He’s the gentlest man on the planet. I should never have left him in the first place.’

  ‘Did he know about the baby?’

  ‘Of course he did. He could tell I was expecting, just by looking at my face.’

  ‘And he saw his chance to steal you away from me?’

  ‘Please, Johnny. It wasn’t like that.’

  ‘Wasn’t it? The coward! He couldn’t take me on, and fight me for you?’

  ‘Johnny, where do you get your logic
from? You can’t go around beating people up for love. Be reasonable. Would you have given up the ballroom for me? If I’d asked you to?’

  ‘What else could I have done with my life? It’s the only thing I was good at.’

  ‘Well, then.’

  Johnny lit another cigarette, and sighed. ‘He’s a handsome lad – Declan. He takes that after me.’

  ‘He is good-looking. And clever, too. He’s going to be a doctor.’

  ‘Really? That’s great. I knew he was at college but I didn’t know what he was studying. Doctor, eh? He didn’t get his brains from me, then.’

  ‘He loves music, though. Like you.’

  ‘But he doesn’t know about me? That I am his –’

  ‘No. I never told him. It’s funny how you can never escape the past, isn’t it? You can kid yourself that certain things are over and done with. But then, one day, they come back to haunt you. I was going to tell him lots of times, but I couldn’t. It was too hard. He adores Eddy.’

  ‘And now, I’ll never get to know him.’

  ‘It’s too late, Johnny. He has his own life now. A baby of his own on the way.’ A cold breeze came whistling round the corner of the hotel and made them both shiver. Marion looked at her watch.

  ‘We would have made a great little family,’ Johnny said, as they stood up.

  ‘Please don’t tell Eddy about this.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘He thinks you still carry a torch for me.’

  ‘I do.’

  Marion shook her head. ‘Johnny, you don’t. I’m just a reminder of your youth.’

  Silence.

  ‘Will James and Eileen be okay?’ asked Marion. ‘When you leave for America?’ It was a roundabout way of checking that he was still leaving.

  ‘Yes. They’re going to move to a small bungalow in Portstewart, actually. It was Gran’s idea. She likes the seaside, she’s decided.’

  ‘They really love each other, don’t they? Eileen and James?’

  ‘Yes, they do. I hope to God they both don’t drop dead with delayed shock. The doctor says these things don’t always sink in, right away. Months later, they can affect you, he said. The body buries powerful feelings, you see, until it’s ready to deal with them.’

  ‘I know what you mean.’

  ‘I’d like to meet Declan again sometime. Talk to him, just once. But I won’t tell him I’m his father. I don’t want him to think I abandoned him. Or you.’

  Marion’s whole body shook with relief. Thank God, she thought. Now, Eddy never has to know our secret is not a secret any more.

  ‘Well, I’ll go home now. I’m really sorry, Johnny. I didn’t mean to hurt you. You do understand? And like you said yourself, you didn’t want to settle down to an ordinary kind of life. It was all for the best.’

  They hugged each other briefly. Johnny kissed her softly on the cheek. Long-buried feelings stirred within her. He was very attractive, even with the passing years chipping away at him, leaving lines around his eyes. And maybe he was slightly too thin. But still, there was something about him, something magical. Marion broke away first, and walked quickly across the lawn. She didn’t want Johnny to see her breaking down in tears. Her heart was in turmoil. She thought she did still love Johnny, just a little bit. Just for old times’ sake. They had been such a glamorous couple, the best dancers in the city. She with her jaunty neck-scarves and false eyelashes, and Johnny with his endless supply of blue suede shoes. And Johnny was right: they could have taken on the world, together. She hadn’t given him the chance to show her what kind of husband he might have been. Why did life have to be so complicated?

  And then, she thought of Eddy, and her heart almost broke with shame. She had left him standing in the foyer like a servant, with his tray of drinks. After all he had done for her over the years. Waiting for so long to take her to bed. Getting up in the night to help feed the children when they were babies. Setting her up in her own business so she could feel independent. Telling her he loved her every single day. He looked like a Victorian gamekeeper in those crumpled tweeds, and the tousled curly hair that no comb could tame, and yet he was always there for her and the children. He’d die for her.

  She unlocked the car and jumped in. Dear, sweet Eddy. Still so possessive of her, after all this time. Drinking himself into a jealous rage like that. She would go straight home and make it up with him. And then, she remembered her promise to Johnny: he wanted to meet Declan properly. What would Eddy say if he knew about that?

  23. A Bundoran Cafe

  Eugene Lolly sat in a tiny back-street cafe in Bundoran and considered his options. It didn’t take him very long. His picture was all over the papers. The story of the Bonbon Gang was on every front page. He looked tough and mean in the old mugshots they had managed to get from the police files. That gave him a bit of a buzz, anyway. At least he wasn’t a nobody any more. Of course, now he had to be careful about being seen by the public. He was wearing a disguise of thick reading glasses and a cloth cap, stolen from an unlocked car earlier on in the day. But the owners of the cafe, an elderly couple, didn’t give him a second glance. Likely they thought he was some lonely farmer in from the country on a pay-day bender. He looked down at the story in the local paper and pulled the glasses down to the tip of his nose so that he could read over the top of them.

  There was a recent, though particularly unflattering, picture of Eugene at the bottom of the article. It said, Eugene Lolly, 46, hapless leader of the Bonbon Gang. Hapless! No one had worked harder, to get on in life, than Eugene Lolly! If his plans rarely worked out, it wasn’t his fault. And now, just when he thought things could not get any worse, they were calling him names in the papers! Eugene was many things, but he wasn’t hapless.

  He remembered his rage as the women drove away that fateful day, Eileen Hogan laughing at him from the car; and he had to accept that he had been outwitted by an old woman with one foot in the grave. And her silly friend, who was as jumpy as a firecracker on a trampoline. Yes, it pained him to admit that. He’d been outwitted, good and proper, by a couple of females. Left locked in the pastel-painted bedroom of a seaside bungalow. And no way of knowing how long it would be until he was arrested.

  Hogan’s old girlfriend had taken the key of the door away with her, so he couldn’t try the old trick of pushing it out onto a piece of paper, and sliding it in towards himself, under the door. He tried to force the door, wrenching the handle constantly, but he succeeded only in bruising his palms very badly. The language that he went over that afternoon was absolutely sinful. And then, a couple of hours later, he heard the sound that he had been dreading. A police car came revving up the drive and he knew it was all over. There was no hiding place in the sparsely furnished room. He briefly considered popping into the wardrobe, but knew it would buy him only an extra few seconds, at most. He might have tried hiding in the hollow bed-base, but ruled that out for the same reason. The shabby prison walls and the hopeless clang of the metal doors flashed into his mind. He’d spent enough time there, over the years. It was a long time in coming but he had finally learned his lesson.

  He just wanted to be free, and he would have given all the money in the world to find a key to the solid pine door that held him prisoner. Timothy Tate had told him it was never too late to pray, that no situation was ever too hopeless. And he was surely without hope of any kind at that point. But he just couldn’t bring himself to pray. And then, a curious thing happened. He spied a little blue glass bottle, in the shape of the Virgin Mary, on a high shelf in the corner. And he knew it was one of those novelty containers for holy water that people bought at the Knock shrine. And the sight of it made him so angry that he climbed up on a chair to get it and break it into small pieces. And that was when he saw the spare key, at the very back of the shelf. He couldn’t believe it. It was like a miracle. It was a miracle. He grabbed both objects tightly, in case they disappeared before his eyes. He jumped down again and tried the key in the lock right away, and it w
orked. So he nipped out through the door and locked it again behind him, just to confuse the police. His mind was in such a state of confusion that he dropped the key twice before he was finished.

  At the end of the hall, through the stained glass of the front door, he could see the dark shape of one of the Gardai, fumbling with a bunch of keys. He knew there was no point in trying the other windows and doors in the house for an escape route – he had locked them all himself. He looked up to heaven for further guidance, and saw the hatch to the attic directly above him. In a heartbeat, he was up on a plant stand and through the hatch, pulling the mahogany stand up behind him. The guards came in just as he dropped the hatch back into place. He could hear them searching the house, and even coming up to the attic, but they didn’t find him because by that time he was hiding in the water tank. Stone-cold, that water was. His very soul was shivering. They had a good rummage round; he had to hand it to them. They were very thorough. They found the plant stand and wondered aloud why such a fine piece of furniture was left lying on a pile of insulation felt in the corner of the attic. But they didn’t look in the tank, and Eugene had already removed the overhead light bulb, so they wouldn’t see his mean little face just beneath the water level.

  Much later, when they had gone, he crawled out of his watery hiding place, and ripped a hole in the roofing felt, He lifted off a few slates, crawled out, replaced the slates and then slid down the roof into some bushes at the back of the house. He ran across a dozen fields, dripping wet, followed all the way by two curious horses. He found a secluded beach and went for a rest in the long grass near the sand dunes. Although he was very tired and very cold, it was pleasant to listen to the cries of the seagulls as they wheeled overhead. He took off his shoes and felt the sand between his toes, thinking of the little glass bottle and how it had led him to the key and freedom. It was probably the weirdest thing that had ever happened to him.