Patricia Falvey

by The Yellow House (v5)

  I made up my mind to go see Owen at Queensbrook House. Terrence was right—the best way was to come straight out with it. Telling Terrence had been the hard part. Once it was out, it was easier to accept the truth of it. I had my coat and hat on, ready to leave. Aoife was down at Theresa’s, where she had been spending a lot of time lately. Theresa was happy to take her. The excuse that hung between Theresa and me was that I was too sick at the moment to care for her.

  A rapping came at the back door. I paused on my way out the front. Jesus. Could that be James? After all this time? Part of me wanted to go on and pretend I had not heard him. I could not see him now. I was supposed to see Owen first. I cursed under my breath as I stood frozen in the doorway. The rapping came again. Sighing, I turned around and went and opened the back door. There stood James, smiling. He wore an expensive-looking brown overcoat and trilby hat. How long had it been since I had seen him dressed up like this, when he used to be such a dandy?

  He eyed my hat and coat. The smile faded. “Going out?”

  “Oh, aye. Just down to the corner for some bread. It can wait, I suppose.”

  He pushed through the door, took off his hat, and sat down. I removed my coat and hat. “I’ll make tea,” I said.

  “Leave off the bread”—he grinned—“you’re a dangerous woman around knives. But bring some whiskey.”

  I ignored his remark about the knives. “You never take whiskey,” I said, “unless you’re in pain.”

  “Well, maybe I’ve developed a taste for it.”

  I took down the bottle from the cupboard and poured two glasses.

  “And since when do you take it?” he said.

  “Since it’s been my only comfort on cold nights,” I snapped. The words were out before I could stop them.

  James smiled again. “Well, you can leave off it now. I’ll be staying here for a few days. The boys and I have scaled back the operations for the minute.”

  I wanted to jump down his throat. How dare he come to my house and announce he was staying as long as he pleased? How dare he think he could waltz right back in here as if nothing had happened? But something made me swallow the words.

  “What’s going on? Have youse run out of steam finally now that the treaty has been signed?”

  I knew this remark was like a red rag to a bull. To my surprise, he did not rise to the bait.

  “We’re planning a big job soon,” he said calmly. “It’s taking a lot of coordination. We can’t afford to get distracted with too many other things. And we need to spend the time raising funds.”

  I looked at him. “Sounds like big doings.”

  “Aye.”

  I sipped the whiskey while the kettle boiled. “How do you know you’ll be safe here? Wouldn’t it be the first place they’d look for you?”

  “In the past, yes, but I’ve been away for so long they’d hardly think to look here anymore. Besides, the boys are taking turns watching the house.

  “Where’s the child?” he said suddenly.

  “Below at Theresa’s. She’s spending the night.”

  He looked disappointed. “Oh, I was hoping to spend this time with her. I don’t want her forgetting who I am.”

  I shrugged. “I wouldn’t worry on that account. Your ma has your picture up on the wall beside the pope, and she takes it down and shows it to Aoife every time she’s down there.”

  James smiled and nodded. “Aye.”

  As the whiskey warmed my insides, a thought began to form in my head. It was the devil whispering to me. Now is your chance, the voice said. This is what you were hoping for. I tried to shake off the thought. I got up and busied myself with the tea. Suddenly James was standing behind me, his arms around my waist, his lips pressing against my neck.

  “We have the place to ourselves,” he whispered.

  Panic rose in me. I knew fine well what he was getting at, and I wanted none of it. How in God’s name could I sleep with the man now?

  “Well, you’ll get a good night’s sleep and not be annoyed,” I said.

  He pulled me close to him. His heavy breath was in my ear. “Ah now, Eileen O’Neill, since when did you shy away from a good night in bed? Sure I thought you’d be aching for it after all this time. Unless you’ve been satisfying yourself somewhere else.”

  I stiffened. “God forgive you,” I said. “And who would I be satisfying myself with—the likes of fat oul’ Shields, is it?” I tried to laugh it off.

  “Or maybe a rich Protestant,” he said, still breathing in my ear.

  I turned around to face him. “James, will you whisht. We’ve been through this before. If you want to believe the rumors, go right ahead.”

  I felt my soul getting blacker with every lie I told. I was so deep into it now, how was I ever to get out of it? The demon thought entered my head again. It was only just turned February. If I slept with James now, sure mightn’t I go into an early labor six months from now? I was a big woman—it would take a while for me to show. Silently I thanked God for the chance.

  “I’VE MISSED YOU, Eileen. I’ve missed you so much.”

  We lay naked in bed in the dusk. In the distance, women’s voices echoed as they called their children in to tea. Here and there a dog barked. James’s body was leaner than I remembered, his muscles sinewy as rope. He smelled of the outdoors and musk and faintly of whiskey. His breathing grew ragged. Then he was on top of me, his lips pressing hard on mine, his body moving in a frenzied rhythm. I closed my eyes. Oh, Owen, my dear, gentle Owen, who made love to me with a fierce yet generous passion, whose kisses honored every part of my body and made me feel beautiful. How could I ever have enjoyed this brutal passion that was James?

  When he entered me, I cried out. Not in passion, I realized, but in fear. There was already a baby in there. Could he feel it? Could he hurt it?

  James took my cry for passion. He became rougher and more urgent.

  “Eileen,” he cried. “Jesus, Eileen. I love you.”

  When he was done, he rolled over on his back. He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. We lay there, staring at the ceiling.

  “What happened to us, Eileen?” he whispered.

  “What do you mean? Nothing’s changed.”

  “Ah, but it has. Too much has come between us. I mean the uprising—everything.” He leaned over and kissed me. “But it will be all over soon. Our lives will be normal again.”

  I said nothing. Our lives would never be normal again.

  He was silent for a while. “I hope for peace, Eileen. But who knows what will happen? I am a man with a price on my head. I’ve learned now to take it one day at a time.”

  And then I understood why he had come. James had finally accepted that he might die. He had come to spend time with Aoife and me in case these days might be his last. He had come dressed up and smiling and trying to pretend that everything was the way it used to be—and would be again. I shivered and pulled the blankets up over us.

  JAMES WAS GOOD to his word. He stayed for three nights. He confided in me the way he had done when we first met. He said he thought there was an informer somewhere. He did not seem to suspect Fergus, as I did, so I said nothing. He said he felt very much alone. Men were deserting him right and left. He cried when he spoke about Michael Collins and how by signing the treaty, he had let us down. We made love, and again I closed my eyes and thought of Owen.

  Aoife was delighted to see him. He played with her, telling her stories, singing to her. They danced as I played the fiddle, fighting back tears as I watched them. I pushed down the regret that we never were, nor ever would be, a family like this: loving, happy. I had an awful feeling I was watching us all together for the last time.

  On the fourth night, he left. He handed me a fistful of pound notes.

  “Won’t you be needing this for the Cause?” I snapped, the old resentment returning.

  “We’ll raise plenty more, never you mind.”

  I shoved the money in my pocket. Then on impulse
I threw my arms around him and drew him close. “Be careful,” I whispered into his shoulder.

  He stroked my hair. His hand trembled a little. Then he turned and walked away. I watched his tall, straight figure disappear into the darkness. I heard his boots crunching over the frosted grass. Then there was only silence.

  22

  The days at the mill wore on. I prayed Owen would not appear, and my prayers were answered. At the same time, I was worried. Was he off on a dangerous mission just like James? Would I be relieved if he was killed? Would I be relieved if James was killed? The thoughts made me dizzy. Of course I did not want to see harm come to either of them. But if I had to choose, what would I do?

  It seemed to me I had made my choice already. My decision to pass off the baby as James’s weighed on me, but it seemed the best of a bad bargain. Of course, Terrence would not agree with that. Well, it was none of his business.

  I waited another four weeks or so. Then I said casually to Theresa, “You know your mother might be a fortune-teller after all.”

  Theresa eyed me. “Why?”

  I held my head down in a shy sort of a way. Jesus, I was a great actress.

  “Well—as I told you, James was home for a few nights—and now I’ve just missed me curse—and I’m feeling a bit queasy on top of it. I’m wondering if I might be—you know—pregnant.”

  Theresa stared at me. It was hard to read her eyes. Then she shrugged.

  “You’d think you’d know better, Eileen. You seem to have your hands full taking care of one child, let alone two.”

  It was not the response I’d expected. But then it dawned on me. Of course. Poor Theresa was jealous. She wanted a child of her own more than anything.

  “Well then, you’ll have to help me with this one, too,” was all I could think to say.

  “I’m not your servant,” she snapped, and turned on her heel and left.

  My clothes began to feel tight. I stopped wearing belts. Fortunately, the big work apron hid many a sin. I was actually beginning to feel well again. My cheeks bloomed and my skin shone. Of course, I had to make a show of running away from my machine in the mornings, pretending I was sick. Word got around, and a few of the women congratulated me. Most of them just stared at me and whispered among themselves. Shields came over to me.

  “I hear you’re in the family way.”

  “Aye.”

  “And how will you be supporting yourself?”

  “That’s my business.”

  “But you’ll not be able to work for a while,” he persisted.

  “Who says so?” I snapped. “I’m as strong as a horse and you know it.”

  “There’s plenty of women out of a job would be glad of a chance.”

  “Aye, Protestant women, no doubt. Well, I’ve no intention of stepping aside for the likes of them. I’ll be here until the baby drops, and then I’ll be back.”

  I sounded more confident than I was. Inside, I was worried sick about what would become of me. James had not supported me in years. I was dependent upon myself alone. I prayed I would stay well enough to work up until my time.

  Terrence came to the house one night at the end of March.

  “I have news about Lizzie,” he said. To his credit, he did not inquire if I had told Owen or James about the baby.

  I dried my hands on my apron and pulled him toward the table. “Well?” I said. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”

  He sat down. “It seems she was reared by a well-to-do family in Belfast.”

  “Och, I knew it!” I exclaimed.

  “They were Protestant.”

  I stared at him. “Protestant?” It had entered my head that the name Butler could be Protestant, but I had shoved the thought away. “Protestant? Are you sure?”

  Terrence nodded. “Aye. The father was a banker. He died some years ago. Seems the mother was active in society, but she took to her bed after the husband died.”

  “And what about Lizzie?”

  Terrence hesitated. “Seems she ran off to America with some Catholic soldier she had nursed in the hospital.”

  I clapped my hands. “Och, she’s my sister after all. A mind of her own.”

  But my delight dissolved as quickly as it came. “America?”

  “Aye. About three years ago. They think Boston.”

  I sat down. “So she’ll not be back,” I murmured.

  Terrence leaned over and patted my hand. “Now don’t give up hope, Eileen. We might find an address for her. Maybe she’ll be persuaded to come—for a visit, at least.”

  I was doubtful. “Maybe,” I said.

  Then Terrence switched the subject. “You’re looking better,” he said.

  “Aye.”

  He laughed. “Amazing what clearing your conscience will do.”

  I said nothing. Terrence looked at me closely. “Jesus, Eileen, you haven’t told them, have you.”

  I shook my head. Terrence sighed. “You’ll have to do it soon. You are starting to show.”

  Instinctively, I looked down at my belly.

  “I am not!” I shouted. “And what would you know about these things, anyway?”

  “I have eyes.”

  “All right. I’ve told everybody I’m pregnant except James and Owen, so it will be no surprise to anyone.”

  “Except to them! Jesus, Eileen, how can you do this?”

  “That’s not the worst of it,” I cried. “James came home a few weeks back and I slept with him. I’m telling people the child is due in the autumn.”

  Terrence gaped at me. “But it’s due sooner than that, surely.”

  “End of July,” I said. “But many women in the mill have had premature births—they say it’s the conditions there that cause it…”

  Terrence stood up and paced around the kitchen. He ran his fingers through his hair.

  “Eileen! For God’s sake. Who will believe you?”

  “I’m a good actress.”

  He drew in a deep sigh. “Och, Eileen.”

  I looked up at him. “You’ll keep my secret, won’t you, Terrence? Say you will.”

  He was silent for a minute. At last he said, “I won’t volunteer anything, Eileen. But I won’t lie for you, either.”

  He left then. Well, that was that. I was on my own, as usual. A da killed in the fighting, a mother in the asylum, and a sister who had run away to America. One brother sitting on his backside beyond on a big estate, caring about no one but himself, and another brother raised with a stranger’s family. It was a sorry state of affairs. Look what had happened to the great O’Neills!

  I AWOKE THE next day with a cold, empty feeling inside me. Anger and fear snarled at the edges of my heart. I had to face the world alone. Well, I was up to the job. Hadn’t I always been forced to make my own way? A new resolve settled over me. I’d do what I had to do to get through this thing no matter what anybody thought, no matter who had to suffer—and let the devil take the hindmost.

  I was only in the door of the mill when Shields came bustling over to me.

  “You’re wanted in the office.”

  “What for?”

  He glared at me. “Get in there and mind your mouth.”

  I took my time removing my boots and putting on my apron. Shields stood like a general beside me, hands on his hips. When I was good and ready, I walked past him and into the office. Owen sat behind the desk. A strange rage rose up when I saw him.

  “Yes?” I said sharply. “What is it you want?”

  He looked surprised at my reaction. He nodded toward a chair. “Sit down, Eileen. This will not take long.”

  I sat. He walked over and closed the door, leaving Shields standing outside.

  “I understand you are pregnant,” he said, sitting down.

  “That’s old news now,” I said. “You must be the only one didn’t know weeks ago.”

  He studied me. “Is it mine, Eileen? I must know.”

  “Yours?” I laughed, although my heart was thumping to beat the ba
nd. “And where would you get an idea like that?”

  “You know very well,” he said quietly.

  “Well, don’t flatter yourself. It belongs to my husband.” I was ashamed at the lies I was telling. I was hurting him with every word—I could see it on his face.

  He put his head down and studied his hands in front of him. I wondered what he was thinking. Disappointment? Relief? Most likely relief, I told myself; what would he want with a child by a penniless Catholic worker? And he had already said the Quaker community was judging him. If they found out he’d had a child by a mill worker, they’d disown him surely.

  “So you have seen your husband recently?” His eyes turned a dark violet. There was accusation in his voice and something else. I realized it was jealousy.

  “Of course I have,” I snapped, glad to have his anger to respond to. “He’s my husband, isn’t he? And he has his rights. So you can relax. You had no part in it.”

  “Rights!” Owen shouted. “What rights can that man possibly have? He left you and the child destitute, for God’s sake.”

  “It’s not your business!” I cried. “Stay out of it.”

  He stood up. “I just don’t understand how you could have… have slept with him, so soon after…” His voice was quiet. “I thought the time we had together meant as much to you as it did to me. Apparently I was wrong.”

  His eyes searched my face. Pain stabbed at my heart.

  “I told you that was a mistake,” I said. “Is that all? I need to get back to work.”

  “Of course.”

  Before he could say more, I stood up. As I reached for the door, his voice came from behind me. “I would have been proud to be its father, Eileen.”

  I rushed past Shields, nearly knocking him down, and went to my spinning frame. I started it up with a loud rattle and furiously pressed the trestle so that the threads spun in the air like bullets.

  Well, I’d had my chance to reverse all the lies, and I did not take it. Why would I? Just because Terrence said it was a sin? What did I care? What did I owe God, anyway? As I pressed away at the trestle, I thought about James. I would have to get word to him. He should have no reason not to believe me. I looked down at my belly. There was a rise beneath the apron. How was I to convince people I was only three months along? Well, I’d worry about that when the time came.