The Winter Sea

by Morrissey, Di

  Joe said nothing more, but was filled with joy at the thought that Bridie had kept the little wooden elephant all this time. Surely this was a sign he was more to Bridie than just her English pupil.

  Joe watched Bridie as she chatted quietly to Patrick. He looked at her glorious red hair and thought how lucky he was to find her again. He had always been content with Evalina. She had been a placid, dutiful wife and he certainly had no complaints about their relationship, but Joe knew in his heart that he had never felt the passion for Evalina that he’d felt for Bridie, a passion that had not diminished in all the years since he had first seen Bridie in the ship’s little recreation room.

  As the journey continued, Bridie started to ask him a lot of questions about his family and his sons and about Whitby Point, especially the school.

  ‘I’m sorry, Bridie. I don’t know all that much about the school, but the boys all seem to be happy there. They can read and write, at least Ricardo and Pietro can, Carlo only just started, but I’ve no complaints.’

  ‘Joe, tell me about where Patrick and I are going to live.’

  ‘I propose that you and Patrick move into Mrs Ambrose’s guesthouse. I will introduce you as my old friend, now widowed, which is exactly what you are,’ he said. ‘And we’ll go from there. You’ll like Mrs Ambrose, she’s a kind soul.’

  Bridie was silent for a moment then asked, ‘How is your family going to take to me?’

  ‘Bridie, you are a lovely person and everyone will love you, wait and see.’

  ‘You make it all sound so simple,’ said Bridie, sighing. ‘I feel like I’m in a dream. Everything has moved so fast. I just hope I don’t wake up.’

  ‘Bridie, it will be simple, trust me.’

  But of course, it wasn’t.

  *

  A few days after her arrival, Joe brought Bridie home to meet his mother and his sons. Bridie and Patrick had moved into Mrs Ambrose’s guesthouse, where Patrick had a room of his own for the first time in his life, and he was enrolled at the local school. Joe visited Bridie and Patrick, meeting them in the front parlour so that there could be no gossip. Joe found that he and Bridie had no trouble finding things to talk about and they enjoyed each other’s company, but little Patrick was harder to get to know.

  Joe judged that Patrick Sullivan was a boy who had seen too much hardship, pain and fear in his short life, although he seemed to retain an innocence and sweetness about him as if he believed that the world was a better place than it appeared. He was a quiet boy, with a reserved manner, always well behaved and polite. His mother didn’t spoil him, which made a change from his own children, who were, as far as Joe was concerned, overindulged by their grandmother. Indeed, he frequently had to remind his own family that in an Italian household, the father’s word was law.

  Upon his return from Sydney, Joe had sat his mother down and explained that he was bringing someone home whom he’d met years before, and who was now widowed and had a young boy about Carlo’s age. Emilia peered at him.

  ‘Where is she from? Her family? Do we know them?’

  Joe had feared that this was going to be a problem. ‘Mamma, she is not Italian. She comes from a good family in Ireland. She is kind and good but she has suffered a lot. Her husband died and she has no family in Australia, so it has been difficult for her. She has just moved here to Whitby Point and I thought it might be nice for her boy to meet my boys.’

  His mother gave him a shrewd look. ‘Why did she not go home to her family?’

  ‘Times are very hard in Ireland, like back in Italy. There’s no money for such a trip.’

  ‘Why is she here?’

  ‘Because, Mamma, Whitby Point is a better place to live than where she was living in Sydney.’

  ‘Does she speak Italian?’

  ‘Only a few words. But she taught me to speak English. Perhaps she could teach you English, too.’ Joe smiled.

  His mother bristled. ‘I have no need to speak Inglese. Bring her and the child to visit if you must. I hope you know what you are doing.’

  ‘I’m just being a good friend.’

  *

  Bridie’s first visit did not go well. Emilia made little effort to get on with her. The older boys were polite enough to both Bridie and Patrick, but they soon grew bored and fidgeted until all the boys were sent outside to play while the three adults sat down to coffee and Emilia’s homemade crostelli.

  Bridie courteously asked Emilia how she had made the sweet biscuit, and Joe translated the answer, but it was an unsatisfactory conversation.

  Eventually Emilia looked at Joe and asked, ‘How long must I sit here pretending to be nice to this girl?’

  She may have spoken in Italian but Bridie looked as though she understood the intent of her words.

  ‘Mamma, could you go outside and keep an eye on the boys, please?’ suggested Joe, giving her a frown.

  ‘You have never asked me to do that before,’ replied his mother, but nevertheless she took the hint and left the room.

  ‘Oh dear, she doesn’t approve of me at all,’ said Bridie, sighing.

  ‘Nonsense, of course she likes you,’ said Joe emphatically.

  At that moment there was a yell from Ricardo and Carlo came racing into the house and disappeared into a room, banging the door behind him.

  Joe strode outside. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘It was Carlo,’ cried Ricardo. ‘He’s locked Patrick in the woodshed. He said he’s going to chop his legs off with the axe! But he’s just pretending.’

  Joe and Bridie went running over to an old shed where Emilia was battling with a rusty bolt.

  ‘Patrick, are you all right?’ called out Bridie.

  ‘Yes, Mum. But it’s really dark in here. That boy said there’s a snake.’ Patrick started to cry.

  ‘There’s no snake, Patrick. Here, let me.’ Joe reached past Emilia and yanked back the bolt. He entered the spidery darkness of the shed and lifted Patrick out.

  Bridie hugged him, but Patrick pushed her away and, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, sniffed, ‘I wasn’t scared.’

  ‘What happened? Why did Carlo do such a thing to Patrick?’ demanded Joe.

  ‘He said, he said . . . he said Patrick was telling lies. Patrick said that you came and visited him and his mother and that you really liked him. That’s not true. We’re your boys, not him,’ said Ricardo.

  ‘Now, now, don’t talk like that. Of course you’re my boys, but Patrick is new to your school and I was friends with his mother a long time ago, so I want you to be his friend, too. He doesn’t know anyone and he doesn’t have brothers like you do. I want you to be kind to him, do you understand?’ said Joe in his firm voice.

  The boys knew it was better not to argue.

  ‘I will go and speak to Carlo. Pietro, take Patrick down to your grandmother’s chickens and see if you can find some eggs.’

  Patrick glanced at his mother and whispered, ‘Carlo doesn’t like me. He’s mean.’

  ‘He’s probably very nice when you get to know him,’ said Bridie.

  ‘I didn’t do anything,’ protested Patrick.

  But Pietro took his hand and said, ‘I’ll show you the chickens.’

  That night, after Patrick had gone to sleep, Joe and Bridie sat in Mrs Ambrose’s parlour talking quietly.

  ‘I feel terrible. Your mother doesn’t like me. Maybe she thinks I’m chasing your money. And the boys aren’t very comfortable with us either.’

  ‘Nonsense. If Mamma is suspicious it’s because you’re not a so-called nice girl from our village. Anyone who doesn’t fit that description is going to have trouble with her at first. Things will change when she gets to know you. And the boys will be fine. I know that Carlo was unkind to Patrick but you have to remember, he’s the baby of the family so he likes to be the centre of attention. Ricardo and Pietro liked Patrick. I’m sure.’

  ‘I hope so,’ replied Bridie.

  *

  Joe took Bridie and Patrick to his
house several more times. Emilia always cooked a wonderful meal, and Bridie always complimented her on her cooking, but the conversation never went any further. However, the two older boys began to take an interest in Patrick, even though, as they pointed out to their father, he was really too young to be bothered with. Nevertheless, they seemed to like playing football with him in the backyard, and they even went as far as praising his tree-climbing skills.

  ‘See,’ said Joe, ‘the boys are coming around.’

  ‘Only Ricardo and Pietro,’ replied Bridie. ‘Carlo doesn’t seem to have changed his mind at all.’

  ‘He will, he will. Give it time.’

  A few weeks later as they sat in Mrs Ambrose’s front room, Bridie told Joe how difficult it was for her to fit into the life of Whitby Point. ‘It’s a very pretty place,’ Bridie said, ‘but it’s so quiet. When Patrick’s at school, I go for a walk and I can’t find anyone to talk to. Your mother seems to have friends, but they won’t speak to me. I’m not Italian.’

  ‘But Bridie, there are a lot of people in Whitby Point who aren’t Italian. What about the church? Is there no one there to talk to?’

  ‘I suppose so, but people here are so different from Surry Hills. I know that everyone lived on top of each other there. I know it was a slum. But if you wanted to talk to someone, you just opened your door. Here, it’s different. You have to go and find someone in particular.’

  ‘Give it time. Things are bound to be different from the city here, but you’ll get used to the place.’

  ‘At least Patrick is happy at his new school. He’s made some friends and he’s certainly learning. And the school is much nicer. Not so cramped and he loves having that huge playground to run around in.’

  ‘Whitby Point is not all bad then?’

  ‘No, Joe, it isn’t.’

  That evening before he left the guesthouse Joe had a quiet word with kind Mrs Ambrose and when he visited Bridie again a couple of days later, she told him that Mrs Ambrose had taken her to a Red Cross meeting.

  ‘They do such wonderful work, Joe. On the surface Whitby Point looks so pretty and shows a serene face to the world, but when you go to a Red Cross meeting you realise just how much work is needed to keep food on the table of some of the families around here. I thought that poverty existed mainly in the city, but that’s not true. It’s bad down here, too.’

  ‘Yes, Whitby Point is not immune to what is happening in the rest of the country,’ said Joe. ‘But it is good that you want to help.’

  ‘In fact, Mrs Ambrose said that if I really wanted to do more, I should also join the Country Women’s Association. They also do a lot of work to relieve the plight of poor country women. Joe, I can see that there is much that should be done, and I want to help. Mrs Ambrose said that they could use all the help they can get, so I told her that I’d join.’ Bridie’s face lit up as she went on. ‘It is so good to be made to feel useful.’

  Joe smiled to himself. It was wonderful to see Bridie enthusiastic and interested in what was happening in Whitby Point. She just needs a little more time and she’ll come around to the idea of marriage, I’m sure, he thought.

  *

  On a Saturday afternoon a month later, Joe and Bridie decided to take the boys down to the beach. It was low tide so they could collect pipis. Joe loved the taste of the sweet little shellfish hidden in the sand. They had been very successful in their pipi hunt and Joe carried a bucket of them as he strolled slowly with Bridie towards the headland while the boys raced ahead to explore the rock pools.

  Suddenly there was a lot of shouting and one of the boys let out a scream.

  Joe dropped the bucket of pipis and both he and Bridie ran towards the rocks.

  At first all Joe could see were Pietro and Carlo standing on the rocks. Pietro was shouting and Carlo seemed to be crying. Then, to his horror, he saw that Patrick was floundering in a rock pool that had a fast-running channel heading towards the ocean and that Ricardo was trying to swim over to the little boy. Both of them were being swept towards the open sea.

  Joe clambered over the rocks and jumped into the water where the channel met the ocean just as Patrick was swept towards him. At the same moment a wave broke, pushing them both back onto the rocks. Ricardo, who had managed to get himself out of the pool when he saw his father jump in, grasped Patrick’s hand and pulled him while Joe pushed him out onto the rock ledge. Then Joe heaved himself out of the pool and lay exhausted on the ledge beside him. All of them had grazed and bleeding arms and legs.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Joe asked Ricardo.

  ‘Yes, Papà, I’m fine.’

  Joe looked at his son with pride. ‘That was a very brave thing you did.’

  ‘I don’t think Patrick can swim,’ Ricardo added in a matter-of-fact way. ‘Might be an idea if we teach him.’

  Patrick said nothing. He clung on to Joe, burying his head in Joe’s shoulder. Then, just as Bridie reached them, he looked up at Joe and said, ‘I love you. You saved me.’

  Joe just smiled, but he was touched by Patrick’s words.

  Bridie wrapped her arms around her son. ‘Why on earth did you jump in that rock pool, Patrick? You could have drowned.’

  ‘Where’s Carlo?’ asked Joe, alarmed, suddenly aware that his youngest child was no longer on the rocks with them.

  ‘He’s over there, Papà,’ said Pietro.

  Carlo had shrunk back towards the cliff face away from the surging water and was watching them.

  ‘Poor boy,’ said Bridie. ‘He must have got a terrible fright.’

  ‘I think that Carlo did something to Patrick,’ said Ricardo. ‘That’s why Patrick jumped into the water.’

  Joe saw that Patrick’s hand was tightly grasping a small object.

  ‘What’ve you got?’ he asked Patrick. ‘What is it?’

  Patrick opened his hand to show Joe his wooden elephant. ‘Carlo threw it in the water,’ he said.

  Leaving the other boys with Bridie, Joe marched over to Carlo.

  ‘That was a really, really stupid thing to do, Carlo,’ he shouted at his son. ‘Why did you do it?’ He gave him a light clip across the ear. ‘You could have got us all killed.’

  ‘He’s a baby!’ Carlo shouted back at his father. ‘That’s a dumb toy.’

  ‘You took Patrick’s favourite toy. You know it is very, very precious to him.’

  Grudgingly Carlo nodded.

  ‘That little elephant was all that Patrick ever owned in his life before he came to Whitby Point. And I happen to know that it belonged to his mother and it’s very special, but you took it away. You deliberately wanted to hurt Patrick. Why, Carlo? What has he ever done to you?’

  Carlo glared in fury at his father. ‘You like him better than me, don’t you!’ he shouted.

  ‘Son,’ said Joe, ‘that’s not true. I love you just the same as I always have. Now I want you to come over and say you’re sorry.’

  Meekly Carlo went over to Patrick and reluctantly apologised for throwing the elephant into the water and frightening everyone and causing such trouble.

  Sighing, Joe ruffled his hair. ‘That’s a good boy,’ he said.

  On the walk back from the beach the boys were subdued. Bridie and Joe walked a few paces behind them as they spoke quietly about what had happened.

  ‘Bridie,’ said Joe. ‘I can’t apologise enough for what Carlo did.’

  ‘Joe, it wasn’t your fault and I thought you handled things well. Both you and Ricardo were very brave and in the end no one got hurt. But it made me think. If my son can tell you that he loves you, then I can too. If that offer of marriage is still open, I’d like to take you up on it.’

  Joe couldn’t speak. He took Bridie’s hand and squeezed it and held it tightly all the way home.

  *

  The wedding was held in the little church of St Mary’s Star of the Sea. It was a small gathering by Italian standards. The boys and Emilia, who had made a small festive gesture by adding a lace collar to her black dre
ss, sat primly in the front pew. The boys wore formal white button-down shirts and matching knickerbocker pants. Joe wore a dark suit with a flower in his buttonhole and had insisted that Bridie buy an outfit from Sydney.

  She had chosen a beige silk three-quarter-length dress cut on the bias and trimmed with a satin bow and draped tulle that hugged her trim figure. A tiny matching hat with a soft feather trim nestled into her auburn hair, and cream netting covered her shining, joyful eyes. She carried a simple bouquet of white roses as she walked down the aisle, escorted by her proud son.

  Joe thought she looked like a Hollywood movie star and he couldn’t keep his eyes off her or stop smiling. He could hardly believe that after all these years and after everything that had happened to both of them, Bridie was at long last going to be his.

  Franco seemed genuinely pleased that Joe had found such happiness. At first Bridie had felt uncomfortable meeting Franco as she knew she was replacing his late daughter. But Franco soon put her at ease, telling her that Joe was indeed a lucky man to have found such a beautiful wife.

  ‘It’s not right for a man and those young boys to be on their own without a woman’s influence.’ He glanced across at Joe’s mother. ‘Emilia is a good woman, but old-fashioned and set in our Italian ways. I’m sure my daughter would be pleased to know that her sons will have someone with more modern ideas in their lives, so to speak.’

  Franco’s son Silvio and his wife were also pleased for Joe. Several friends from Wollongong and Whitby Point as well as Joe’s fishing crews made up the rest of the group at the church.

  There was no time for a honeymoon but, if the truth was told, Joe knew that Bridie would not have wanted to leave Patrick behind anyway. On their wedding night, back at Joe’s house, Joe reached into his pocket and held open his hand. Nestled in his palm was the thin gold and garnet ring that his grandmother had given him, the one that Bridie had rescued from the pawn shop.

  ‘It’s too delicate to wear, but I’d like you to have it anyway,’ said Joe, placing it in her palm.