“She looks more than stunning,” Ray said softly. “I promise I’ll look after her.”
“You’d better,” her mother laughed. “Or I’ll send her brothers after you!”
“To be honest, ma’am,” Ray said with a cheeky wink that made Stella’s heart beat a little faster, “I’m more afraid of Dolores.”
This of course prompted a howl of outrage from Dolores who thumped Ray playfully on the arm. “And so you should be, marine! I could beat any one of you in a fight.”
“I don’t doubt it for a moment,” he had replied, rubbing his arm. “But I plan not to test that theory, if that’s all right?”
“Don’t hurt my sister and you won’t have to,” Dolores grinned, winking at Stella who couldn’t help but smile back.
“I wouldn’t,” Ray said. “You have to believe that, all of you, because this girl is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”
“God, man,” Stella’s daddy chirped, “you have it bad! These women are turning you soft!”
Stella couldn’t help but smile more, as she wound her arm in Ray’s and said her goodbyes to her parents. She had a feeling that night would be a special one.
“Be good!” her mother called after her as they headed out into the street to walk the short distance, over Ferryquay Street and down Shipquay Street, to the hotel.
The night was clear and crisp, the stars twinkling brightly above them.
“You really do look so beautiful,” Ray said, stopping by a lamplight on Shipquay Street and pulling her close to him.
She felt the warmth of his body against hers and instinctively leaned into him, revelling in the feeling of him being so close to her. Feeling his hand on her neck, tipping her head towards his, she closed her eyes and allowed him to kiss her and she felt herself shiver with a longing she had been trying to push down for so long.
Breaking away from him she took a deep breath. “We need to go to the ball, Ray. This will never do,” she said with a smile, stroking his cheek and the soft bristle where his beard was already starting to poke through again.
“No, I don’t suppose it will,” he said, brushing his lips softly against her forehead. “So as it is clear you’re not going to let me whisk you away to the love nest instead, will we walk on?”
“Much as I would love to let you whisk me away to the love nest, it would be a sin before Holy God and His Mother not to show off this dress so I’m terribly sorry, but on we go!” She laughed as she spoke but felt secretly delighted that he had wanted to whisk her off in the first place.
“Let’s go then, my lady,” he said and on they walked.
The function room at the City Hotel did not disappoint, especially not with the Christmas decorations glinting in the light of the chandeliers. The room was buzzing with chat and laughter. Glasses clinked, smoke hung heavy in the air. She glanced around at her fellow guests – women dressed to the nines, scent liberally sprayed, not a hair of out of place – and she was glad of the effort she had made.
Ray guided her through the crowds, lifting two champagne flutes from a waiter as he went.
“Here,” he said, handing her a glass, which she eyed suspiciously.
She had never tasted champagne – she wasn’t sure it wouldn’t make her giddy and lightheaded. She felt every inch the sophisticate and, she supposed, sophisticated ladies didn’t turn down complimentary glasses of champagne.
“To us!” she said, raising her glass to Ray who raised his glass in return and, clinking it against hers, repeated “To us!” They both sipped and, as the bubbles tickled the back of her throat and her nose, she felt herself start to cough and splutter. As much as she tried to hold it in, she couldn’t – the sharp taste of the champagne was clawing at her throat, making her eyes water. He would think she was such a hick, she thought as she, face blazing, looked at him to see that he too was spluttering and wiping his eyes with his free hand. He caught her gaze and laughed.
“Have you never had champagne before either?” he asked while trying to catch his breath.
“No,” she replied. “It’s not really a popular drink around these parts. We prefer a nice cup of tea.”
“So do I,” he laughed.
They sat their glasses on a nearby table and walked on to find their seats for the evening. “We make a good pair, Stella Hegarty,” he said. “Let’s just sit here and behave ourselves and try not to let anyone know we are not the kind of people who drink champagne with dinner every night.”
He squeezed her hand and she relaxed again, the plush surroundings of the hotel not seeming so daunting any more. Sure she had Ray and he had her and it was going to be a wonderful night.
* * *
By half past eleven her feet throbbed so badly she longed to take her shoes off and rub at her soles. She had barely left the dance floor since the band had started playing – letting Ray whirl her around the floor and sharing a few dances with the girls from the factory who had accompanied their own boyfriends. The mood had been light and even though she had stayed with soft drinks since the champagne debacle, she felt slightly drunk and as if she were floating. In fact, it was only the dull ache in her feet that reminded her she was very much in the here and now. She sat down, leaning against Ray as he softly kissed her head.
“My feet ache,” she mumbled. “You might have to carry me home at this rate.”
“Your feet can’t be sore – we’ve one last song to dance to. They promised me a slow one and I’m not leaving until I have led you around the floor one more time.”
She winced at the thought but, then again, a few minutes in his arms, she reckoned, would be worth the pain.
Ray took her hand in his and led her to the dance floor as the strains of “I Only Have Eyes For You” started to ring out. Turning her to face him, he pulled her into an embrace and wordlessly they started moving in time with the music. She rested her head on his shoulder, allowing herself to relax into him and in that moment she thought she never wanted to be anywhere else, again, ever, but in his arms.
“Don’t ever leave me,” she whispered into his neck as they danced. “Please don’t ever leave me.”
“I won’t,” he answered, kissing her head softly. “Always and forever yours, Stella. Always.”
She pulled away and looked up at him, saw that his eyes were moist, his face sincere, and she kissed him and they stood stock still amid the crowds moving around them. This was their perfect moment – sore feet and all – she would hold onto that moment over the years that followed.
* * *
It was Christmas Eve. Stella had been awake since gone seven. Kathleen Hegarty demanded certain standards of her house on Christmas morning so Christmas Eve was as hectic as it could be. By eleven, Stella had already run the bed linen through the mangle and had hung it on the clothes horse to dry. She had taken the rugs from the good room and out to the back garden and had beaten them to within an inch of their lives and now she was taking to the windows with vinegar and brown paper. Dolores was helping their younger brothers stick together paper chains to hang from the ceilings. Kathleen was busying herself plucking and preparing the turkey and peeling enough potatoes to feed a small army. There would be soup to be made, of course, and a ham to be boiled. And when the afternoon turned into evening Kathleen would set about baking her apple pies while Stella and Dolores made sure all the good clothes were dried and pressed for Mass in the morning. There wouldn’t be a spoon unpolished or an ornament not dusted and by the time they all retired, after going to the McGlincheys’ across the street for a small Christmas Eve drink and a mince pie, they would all near fall into their beds with exhaustion.
While it was a busy day, it was one Stella loved. She loved the routine, the tradition, the singing of carols. She loved nipping to the corner shop and greeting her neighbours with a ‘Merry Christmas’. She loved the smell of the clothes drying around the fire, the smell of the furniture wax, the cooking smells and how the house came alive. And she especially loved i
t when her daddy would come home from working at the docks, after stopping off for a seasonal stout on the way home, and hand each of them a ten-bob note. Even though she was twenty – a grown woman – she still loved to see her daddy come home on Christmas Eve: it was then that Christmas really began.
That particular Christmas Eve was a little different, however. She was distracted and while she carried out the chores that she was assigned she couldn’t help but feel her mind wander. Ray had told her he was to get a few hours off that afternoon from the Base and would be headed to their little love nest. She had told him, of course, that given the day that was in it, she was unlikely to be able to escape from the family but he had asked her to try. So now as she set about her chores and the usual Christmas Eve traditions, her mind was on her marine, alone in their flat, and she found it hard to find the same fervour for the preparations as she normally did.
When Kathleen asked her mid-afternoon to run to the shops for some yeast for the bread she nearly jumped with joy. If she was quick she could sneak to see him for even five minutes – a sneaky kiss – and be back home with no one being any the wiser. It was strange now – she seemed obsessed with him. When she wasn’t with him, all she could think about was how he spoke, how he smelled, how he felt, and she felt bereft at every second of not being able to drink him in. She was almost euphoric at the thought of being able to sneak out to be with him and she ran full pelt to her bedroom where she took off her pinny, brushed her hair through and applied a little lipstick.
“Dear God, woman, you’re only going to the shop – no need to tart yourself up!” Dolores had quipped as she walked into the room to see Stella spritz some perfume on her wrists and slip on her new coat.
“I don’t see anything wrong with making an effort,” Stella snapped, face blazing that Dolores had caught her.
“No, I suppose not,” Dolores sniffed, aggrieved at the tone in her sister’s voice. “It’s just not really like you. Can it be our ugly duckling is turning into a swan after all these years? Sure you’re always primping and preening yourself these days. It’s a wonder any one of us can get near the mirror. But then again, it’s usually when you are off to see Ray and you aren’t seeing him till tomorrow . . .” Her voice trailed off.
Stella’s blush rose again. Dolores could always see right through her and she was pretty sure her sister could see all that was going on in her mind right there and then.
“Will you promise not to tell?” she whispered as her sister moved closer. “I’m going to see him just for five minutes. I won’t be long. I just need to see him. Can you cover for me if Mammy asks what’s keeping me so long? I’ll be as quick as I can. I promise.”
“Stella Hegarty, you sly fox. Imagine you, nipping out for a wee rendezvous! My God, woman, this all so very romantic!”
“It sure is,” Stella smiled back. “I’m in love, Dolores. I can’t help it, and I don’t care who knows.”
“Apart from Mammy obviously, who would knock your pan in if she knew you were heading out to see your fancy man when there is still brass to be tackled and wains to be washed.”
“I won’t be long, I promise,” Stella reassured her sister and, buttoning her coat, she slipped down the stairs and out of the front door with an extra spring in her step.
She ran towards Carlisle Road where she would see Ray. Her smile was as bright as the Christmas lights sparkling in the windows of her neighbours’ houses.
Running up the stairs to the flat, her heart beat fast at the thought of spending just a few illicit moments with Ray. She smiled as she turned her key in the door and pushed it open.
But the flat was in darkness – not even a hint of an ember in the fire or a note to say he had been called away. Just a cold dark room, and her heart sank to her boots. There had to be a reason, she told herself. She never doubted him, not a minute, but she couldn’t help but feel sorely disappointed. All day she had hoped for this moment and now he wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
Despondently she left, heading to the shop to buy the yeast her mother would be waiting for and as she walked she decided to call the Base just to see what had happened. He would never let her down, there had to be an explanation. Something must have come up. She would settle herself if she could just speak to him and hear he was okay – and for him to tell her he would still come to Christmas dinner with the family.
She walked to the phone box, dropped a coin in the box and waited to be connected. When a friendly voice answered she asked to speak to Ray.
“Is that Stella?” the man on the other end asked.
“Yes, yes, it is.”
“Hmm. I was sure he said he was going to be with you. Or, you know, at least to try and see you. He was quite keen.”
Flustered, Stella wondered who she was talking to and asked the marine who he was.
“It’s Dusty, ma’am,” he said with his Southern drawl. “And as I’ve said, Ray’s not here. He said he was going to, you know, the love shack.”
Dusty laughed a full and filthy laugh which made Stella feel as if she was part of some dirty secret. This on top of the news that Ray wasn’t even to be found at the Base made tears spring to her eyes.
“But he’s not there,” she said through her embarrassment.
“I don’t know, ma’am. I know he was very flustered leaving. I probably shouldn’t tell you this – I know he would have wanted to tell you himself – but we got our shipping-out orders. We leave in six weeks. He was in a state when he left. Said he had some business to sort out – but we kinda thought you were that business.” The dirty laugh followed again.
Stella had to steady herself to avoid falling to the ground. Six weeks. Six weeks was no time – it wasn’t enough. And where on earth was Ray? Where could he be? Why had he not come to her? She put the phone down without so much as saying goodbye and turned to walk home, her mind racing as fast as her heart was breaking. She was grateful for the evening closing in – that it hid her face and the tears that were sliding down her cheeks. Her feet were no longer light, her step no longer carefree. She felt as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders and as if she might drop to the ground at any second and weep at the injustice of it all. He had come into her life, changed it in ways she could never have expected, and now he could be walking out of it again. Was it not too soon to make this work? Despite their love for each other. Was it not just too much – and if he wanted it – wanted her – where was he?
Her head hurting, she pushed open the front door to her house and slipped her coat off, the smells and sounds of Christmas Eve no longer comforting but now irritating her.
Her mother walked out of the kitchen, dusting her arms on her pinny. “Have you the yeast, love? I need to get this bread proving or I’ll be at it all night.”
Stella fell to the bottom step and shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mammy,” she muttered through her tears. “I don’t. I forgot. I’m sorry.”
She sat there sobbing until she felt the soft hands of her mother around her shoulders. “Dear Lord, child. What’s the matter? And it’s only yeast, for goodness’ sake. Sure I can probably borrow some from Mrs McGlinchey. What on earth has you in this state?”
“Oh Mammy!” she wailed, feeling a raw grief bubbling up from within her and making her very skin hurt. “I’m scared. I’m scared I’m going to lose him!”
Chapter 17
Perhaps there is nothing more to say, except always and forever. Always and forever will never change.
* * *
Derry, June 2010
I woke to light sneaking in through the blinds and to the sound of the street outside coming to life for the day. The traffic hummed along while the chatter of neighbours calling to each other reminded me that I was a long way from home. I lay there for a while with my eyes closed just trying to ground myself – remind myself where I was, why I was there and how it was turning out to be a very different vacation from the one I had envisaged.
I had slept pretty fitfully
. My dreams were filled with a love story that until recently I hadn’t even known of. I tried to piece together the notion of my mother with the woman who had written the letters. I don’t think I had ever seen my mother write anything other than a note to my gym teacher to ask her to give me a pass from dodgeball for the day. And yet for an hour when I got home the previous night I had seen a different woman reveal herself to me – one who was so very deeply passionate. Who so wanted her love affair to work. Who had, by her own admission, made grave mistakes. I thought of the picture of my mother which hung in our den at home – a picture taken when she must have been no older than eighteen or nineteen. Her eyes were bright, her smile wide. She was a beauty. She still was a beauty, even at seventy. Elegant, assured if a little reserved, as if the world had broken her heart in some way and she never quite managed to piece it back together. Of course, now I knew that was the case. And I understood and my heart ached for her.
I prised my eyes open and stretched in the bed, my hand brushing against the letters I had been reading the night before. There were still five more to read but for now I supposed I needed a little break from the emotional intensity of what was before me. This tale of love, and him having to leave. And my poor mother heartbroken.
My head hurt and I wasn’t sure if it was from the wine I had drunk or the crying I had done or just the internal game of volleyball I was playing in trying to make sense of it all and how I felt about it. As I had read my mother’s words and become engrossed in her story I felt a nagging guilt that somehow I was betraying my father even though Mom had assured me time and time again that what she felt for Ray pre-dated how she felt for daddy. Was I to believe that really all she wanted was closure and a chance to explain? Could you feel that deeply for someone and ever really push it away?
I didn’t know, I realised as I sat up and pulled the comforter back, because I didn’t think I had ever felt that strongly in my life.
The First Time I Said Goodbye Page 14