It had been half-past two when, hampered by the blackout, they’d found Sam, and half-past three before Barney McPhearson pounded on the Foleys’ door.
Sarah’s face was ravaged with worry, the puffiness around her eyes evidence of the time she’d spent weeping, but when Maria got to her feet to answer the door, Sarah stopped her. This was something she had to do herself.
Barney almost fell in the door, snatching his cap off his head as he did so.
He could barely look at Sarah’s face. He’d have preferred to talk to Maria, for all she was so young, but Sarah blocked his way and he had to tell her first. ‘Your man, Sam, has been injured,’ he said. ‘He must have slipped into the water.’
‘Is he dead?’
‘No,’ Barney said. He didn’t add ‘he might soon be’, though he knew the man must have been in the water some six hours. He’d been unconscious when they hauled him out and only prevented from drowning by the boat rammed against him. ‘He’s been taken to the hospital in Derry,’ Barney went on.
‘I must go to him,’ Sarah said.
Maria didn’t argue and neither did Barney. ‘I have the trap outside. Wrap up well, for the night air can be treacherous.’
Maria would always remember that journey, the crowd of people outside the house and Barney McPhearson’s arms encircling her as she emerged. He helped first her mother into the trap and then Maria herself, tucking the blankets he’d brought around them solicitously. Then they were off, the clop of the pony’s feet on the cobbles almost drowned by the encouraging shouts of the villagers.
Sarah was sunk in misery and Maria could do nothing but put her arm around her. It wasn’t just grief tugging at Sarah, but guilt too. For weeks, she’d prayed for something to happen to prevent Maria leaving them, but hadn’t given a thought to what that could possibly be. She had never envisaged anything happening to Sam.
Later, as she looked down at her unconscious husband in the hospital bed and listened to the doctor telling her that Sam’s legs were crushed beyond repair and he would never walk again, she knew she had condemned him to this living death. Maria would never leave home now but that thought now gave her little joy.
It was by no means certain that Sam would even survive. ‘He is,’ the doctor said, ‘a very sick man. The next twenty-four hours will be crucial.’
‘We’ll stay,’ Sarah declared, and Maria agreed.
And they did stay, sitting on a hard bench in a hospital corridor, Barney between them. When Sarah’s body sagged against him in a sleep of total exhaustion, Barney put his arm about Maria. ‘This is dreadful for you,’ he said. ‘I do understand.’
Maria was glad he was there, glad of his solid bulk beside her. He seemed, at that moment, the only one she could confide in, tell of her confused feelings. ‘Daddy—he means the world to me,’ she said. ‘I love him so very, very much, but this course at the Academy…For a full year I’ve worked towards it and for weeks have known I was going. I’ve never felt so excited, so exhilarated as I did the day I received that letter offering me a scholarship place. But, really, I shouldn’t be feeling any regret at all about it with Daddy so ill. Surely my thoughts and tears should be all for him.’
‘They are really,’ Barney assured her. ‘But you can’t just turn off hopes and dreams, kept alive this long while.’
‘You seem to understand so much,’ Maria said in surprise. She realised she’d never really taken much notice of Barney before.
‘That’s because I care a great deal about you,’ Barney said. ‘All of you.’
Maria was relieved to hear Barney say that, because she knew her mother would never deal with this. Maria herself would shoulder the burden of the house, with not even Sean on hand, with his own father so ill, and she wasn’t sure she could cope with all that responsibility alone.
‘What if Daddy doesn’t survive, Barney?’ Maria asked a few moments later.
‘Every hour that passes is better news, I should think,’ Barney said. ‘He’s in the best place and all we can do is hope and pray.’
As soon as Bella heard about the tragic events in the Foley family, and the women had returned home, she went down to see them. Sarah had already gone to bed, but Maria was still doing last-minute things. At the sadness in the girl’s eyes, Bella put her arms around her trembling shoulders.
‘Maria, there are no words to express what I feel. This is a terrible thing to happen.’
‘I know.’ Maria’s voice was barely above a whisper. ‘Daddy will live. We stayed, me and Mammy, until he was out of danger, but, oh God, Bella, if you could see him lying there so still, so white. He’s never regained consciousness and so probably doesn’t know we were there, for all I spoke to him, as the nurse advised. She raised her eyes to Bella’s and said, ‘He’ll never walk, nor work again.’
‘And the Academy?’
‘That will never be now, of course, and it does no good fretting over it. I will have more to occupy my time, anyway.’
Bella saw the disappointment in the sag of Maria’s body and the tone of her voice, yet she was right to try to put it from her mind. It would be like probing a sore tooth.
‘You know where my door is if you or your mother need anything,’ she said. ‘And I do mean anything at all.’
‘Aye, Bella, I do, and I thank you, but just now I am too weary to think about anything but my bed.’
‘And I’ll not keep you from it a moment longer,’ Bella said. ‘Go on up now. I’ll let myself out.’
When Sam was in a position to know that he was paralysed from the waist down, he wished he had died. Inside his head he ranted and railed about his condition, though he wouldn’t let his daughter see his anger and frustration nor his tears of self-pity.
He worried as to how they would all manage when he would be unable to work and was glad that they had the support of Barney McPhearson. He’d completely misjudged that young man.
He felt bad about Maria, who’d once held her future in the palm of her hand and not only had it dashed to the floor, but trampled on.
‘I don’t want to hear another word about it,’ Maria said firmly when he’d said this. ‘It was an accident and that’s all there is to it. Everyone has helped and the villagers have been golden.’
She didn’t go on to say that it was as well they had, because her mother seemed incapable of doing anything, including speaking. Since the night the doctor had told them Sam would live, but never work or walk again, she hadn’t spoken one word. Maria didn’t want to burden her daddy with news like that.
Anyway, she’d told herself over and over, it was probably just shock. Everyone knew that shock could do funny things to a body and Sarah would likely get over it in time. Even Bella and Dora had agreed with her over that.
When the word was first out about Sam, the men from the dockyard had rallied around him and had gone to the hospital in droves. Con was a regular, though he felt bad that he was now made gaffer in Sam’s place. Sam told him not to be such a bloody fool and there was not a man alive that he’d rather have taking over from him, but Con couldn’t help feeling guilty about it.
Maria was almost overwhelmed by the people’s concern and their generosity, though she knew the family couldn’t live on their neighbours for ever. Sam knew it too. It was Barney that he appealed to one day to find out the position he was in with regard to the Royal Navy and whether he was entitled to any sort of compensation or a pension.
But the news Barney brought him was not good. Because Sam had been self-employed and just contracted to the navy for the duration of the war, they were under no obligation to compensate him in any way.
‘It’s a bugger, that’s what it is,’ Barney said. ‘Con told me about the noise you went to investigate and I bet it was them IRA bastards tipped you in the drink.’
‘Aye,’ Sam agreed. ‘Someone punched me in the back, all right.’
‘That’s what I mean,’ Barney said. ‘You probably foiled an IRA plot, and certainly saved more that a few ships from being damaged. You should be hailed as a bloody hero, not thrown aside like so much rubbish.’
‘They found no one, Barney,’ Sam reminded him gently.
‘Well, of course they bloody didn’t,’ Barney cried angrily. ‘Those lot would have scarpered not long after you hit the water. What did they expect—that they’d hang about to shake hands?’
‘Barney, we can do nothing about it,’ Sam said. ‘The official line is that I slipped in the water. It was no one’s fault but mine and there is no one to be held accountable for it and that’s that. I suppose the boatyard at Greencastle—’
‘Don’t even ask,’ Barney said. ‘If the boatyard earns anything at all it’s a pittance. Willie has left now, his mind almost gone completely, but in all honesty he had been going that way for some time. I’m going to have to look for something else for myself soon. We could put young Colm, Willie’s grandson, in for now, if you like, to sort of mind the shop? He’s just left school and his mother was asking. Apparently, he’s as mad about boats as his old granddad and would jump at it.’
‘He is,’ Sam said, ‘and he would.’
‘And he’d not need much of a wage,’ Barney said. ‘I mean, he is only fourteen.’
‘It’s something to think about, certainly,’ Sam said. ‘I’d not like the boatyard to lie empty altogether, for it would soon go to rack and ruin, but I understand that you—’
‘Don’t worry about it now,’ Barney told him soothingly, ‘and don’t fret about me. I have a few irons in the fire. You just concentrate on getting well enough to leave here.’
Sean had come over to see Sam as soon as he’d been told of the accident. ‘When it’s all over with my father—and, God knows, he’s in such pain, I hope that’s not long away—will you all come up to live at the house?’
‘I don’t think so, Uncle Sean,’ Maria said. ‘I don’t think Mammy would like to leave here. And I’m worried enough about her as it is.’
Sean thought Maria had cause to worry, for he had been concerned by the vacant look in his sister’s eyes and the way she didn’t seem to hear when a person spoke to her, or even be aware of her surroundings. It was as though she was on the edge of normality and he knew it wouldn’t take much to tip her over into true madness.
Maria knew it too. Somehow she’d have to make a living, but she didn’t know how she could leave her mother day in, day out for hours on end. She wasn’t fit to be left. Dora or Bella would come to sit with her the times Maria went to the hospital, knowing she was worried about leaving her alone. Maria knew that when her father came home, she’d be his main carer too, and she just didn’t know how they were all to survive. The anxiety of this drove sleep from her each night and so her eyes stung with tiredness and there were smudges of blue beneath them.
Sam saw how his daughter suffered and, though his heart ached, he could nothing to ease any of it for her.
By the beginning of the third week, Sarah seemed to have retreated into a world of her own. ‘It is shock, as you suspected,’ Dr Shearer said, when a worried Maria asked him to call. ‘Her mind has shut down because she can’t bear what has happened.’
‘Is it permanent?’ Maria asked.
‘It’s impossible to say,’ the doctor said. ‘The mind is a strange thing. I could arrange for her to go to the psychiatric unit of the District Hospital in Letterkenny for assessment.’
‘A mental hospital?’ Maria said. ‘An asylum?’ Unconsciously she curled her lip.
‘The psychiatric unit of the District Hospital,’ the doctor repeated.
‘She isn’t that bad, is she?’ Maria asked.
‘It isn’t a question of how bad she is, but whether she can be helped further,’ the doctor said.
Maria had a horror of her mother going to such a place. She had a mental picture of what went on in an asylum—and it was an asylum, no matter what fancy name the doctor gave it. She was sure there would be raving lunatics, encased in strait-jackets, or incarcerated in cells, sometimes padded, to prevent them injuring themselves. She wanted her frail and gentle mother nowhere near that, not mixing with mad people.
‘I think she’d be better at home for now, Doctor, but thank you anyway,’ she said.
The doctor shrugged. ‘As you wish, Maria, but remember everyone of us has a breaking point, even you. Don’t allow yourself to go under, for you’ll soon not only have your mother to see to, but your father too.’
Did he think she was unaware of that? Maria shut the door behind him with a bang. She caught her mother up by the hand and, stopping only to wrap a shawl around her, made for the shop.
‘I must get a job,’ she told Dora. ‘But I can’t leave Mammy, and when Daddy comes home it will be worse. What am I to do?’
‘And will your father get nothing from the navy or the Government?’ Dora asked.
‘Barney says not.’
‘And the boatyard?’
‘Limping along just,’ Maria said. ‘Willie’s finished. He’s living with his daughter now.’
‘Barney’s been a grand help to you,’ Dora said.
‘He’s been wonderful,’ Maria agreed warmly. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without him, and that’s the truth. Daddy has quite revised his opinion of him, but that doesn’t help me find a solution to this problem of earning some money.’
Dora was thoughtful that evening and eventually Bella asked what was bothering her.
‘I could see to Sam through the day once he’s home, so that Maria could get a job, but there’s still the problem of Sarah.’
Bella had been heartbroken to see her friend so ill, and hoped and prayed she might one day recover. She’d taken on a girl called Maggie to help in the shop when Maria left. She said, ‘I could maybe have Sarah here during the day. I’m sure I could find her some occupation, weighing and bagging up or some such. Between myself and Maggie, we’ll manage her. After all, Maria can’t do it all.’
Maria was almost overcome by Bella and Dora’s offer and set about finding a job straight away in one of the factories making military uniforms.
However, a few days before she started work, Greg Hopkins came home on leave and soon landed himself at Maria’s door. She smiled, glad to see him and invited him inside.
‘I can’t tell you how heartsore I am,’ he said, and his dark brown eyes were troubled. ‘My mom wrote and told me.’
‘Thank you, Greg,’ Maria said. She saw that Greg’s boyhood had been shed and he was now a man, fine and strapping. He had always been handsome, but his face had once had a sort of soft look about it. Now that was gone. He looked more determined somehow. He was broader shouldered than he’d ever been and carried himself with confidence and assurance. Maria felt a tremor pass down her body as she looked at him.
‘I’m truly sorry that I won’t be around to help you through this,’ Greg said. ‘Pardon me asking this, and please don’t be offended, but how are you managing for money?’
‘I’m not offended,’ Maria said. ‘I know you are asking only out of concern, but you needn’t worry. Daddy had a little saved from his time in the yard and then the villagers have been marvellous. With Bella and Dora’s help, I have been able to look for a job and I am starting at a shirt factory in Derry in a few days’ time. Bella is taking charge of Mammy during the day and Dora will see to Daddy, once he is ready to come home.’
It was said so matter-of-factly, but Greg heard the sadness and weariness in Maria’s voice and his heart turned over in pity for this lovely, young girl with such a heavy burden across her narrow shoulders.
He was certain now he loved and would always love her and wondered how Maria felt about him. He wouldn’t press her, knowing such a lot had happened to her recently, and she was but sixteen yet.
‘Do you ever get out, Maria?’ he asked. ‘Have time for yourself?’
‘What do you think?’ Maria said. ‘Free time is something I don’t have an abundance of.’
‘I have but a few days before I report back,’ Greg said, ‘and you have less time before you start work. It would please me greatly if you let me take you to the pictures this evening. Gone with the Wind is showing in Derry.’
‘Oh,’ Maria said. The pictures! She’d never been and oh, how she’d longed to often. But she shook her head regretfully. ‘I…I couldn’t,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry, but…but I just couldn’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘My mother, I couldn’t leave her.’
‘Could someone sit with her, just for the one evening?’
Maria’s mind was racing. Maybe if she got her mother to bed, Dora or Bella could sit in the house until she came back. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I’ll get word to you if I can work something out.’
A little later she said to Bella, ‘D’you think me awful?’
‘No. Why on earth should I?’
‘You know, going out enjoying myself with Mammy how she is, and as for Daddy…‘
Bella liked young Greg Hopkins, had always liked him, and far better than Barney McPhearson for all the great turnout Maria said he’d made of himself.
‘What difference will it make to either of your parents whether you go out or stay in?’
‘It’s just that I feel guilty.’
‘You think things will improve for your mammy if you are miserable?’
Maria smiled. ‘Of course not.’
‘Well then,’ Bella said. ‘You go with an easy conscience and remember Greg will only have a few days before he is back in the battlefields. I’ll be there if your mammy should need anything.’
Maria had never enjoyed herself so much. The film was wonderful, and when she cried, Greg’s arm had gone around her gently in comfort, as he passed her his snow-white hanky. She’d leant against him and sighed. How good it would be, she thought, to have someone special just for herself, someone to lighten the load a little.
Greg’s heart was singing as the two alighted from the bus in The Square. He’d held Maria’s hand in the cinema at first and she took it again as they walked home, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. At the door, Greg kissed her tenderly on the lips.
‘Will you see me tomorrow?’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’
‘Please. We can take a walk out if the weather is kind to us.’
Maria looked into Greg’s clear, brown eyes and knew that she wanted to see him again and yet still she said, ‘No, not in the daytime. Bella and Dora are kind enough to mind Mammy in the evening so that we can have time together. I will not take advantage of that kindness, and before we do anything else tomorrow, I must see my father.’
Greg didn’t argue further, both because he knew Maria had a point and because she had a way of talking, a certain tone that would brook no argument. But the next evening he turned up in his father’s rattly old tip-up truck he’d had the loan of and so they travelled to Derry in style and Maria took Greg’s hand as they went into the hospital.
Sam liked Greg. He knew too how Sarah had felt about him, the hopes she’d had for him and Maria. Greg sat beside him and told Sam about the lighter side of army life and the high jinks they got up to, and Sam laughed till the tears ran down his weathered cheeks. Then he discussed the true war situation with Greg and found his regard for the man growing.
Sam knew he’d be no help to Maria the way he was, and he saw plainly the way Greg thought about the girl. It was portrayed in his eyes. Of course, Maria was young yet, but so much had happened to her in her brief life that her youth mattered less than getting support for her. Greg Hopkins came from a decent respectable family, whom, he knew, would rally round Maria, particularly if she was the one he wanted. Pity the lad had enlisted really.
And as they left the hospital that night, Greg too wished he’d never left Moville and then he’d be around to help Maria, but nothing could be done about that now. They just had to make the most of the time they had.
‘Care for a drink before we go back?’ he asked.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Maria said. ‘I’ve never been in a public house in my life.’
‘That’s because you’ve been born and bred in Moville,’ Greg said. ‘In other parts of the country, the cities in particular, it is a respectable enough place for women to go to.’ Maria still looked doubtful and Greg tucked her arm in his. ‘Trust your Uncle Greg in this,’ he said, and Maria laughed as he ushered her through the door.
Mindful of Maria’s age, Greg brought her just an orange and for himself a Guinness. As they sat at a small table Maria glanced around self-consciously and saw that there were other girls and women in the pub. She began to relax.
Greg hadn’t wanted to press Maria yet, but when she had excused herself for a few minutes at the hospital, Sam had asked him bluntly how he felt about his daughter. When he admitted he loved her to distraction, Sam had advised him to tell her.
‘I know that Maria is barely out of childhood,’ he said. ‘Had things been different, then I would not be advocating this at all, but in the situation she finds herself, her needs have changed. It would ease my mind if you and your family were there for her if she needed you.’
Greg had quite understood Sam’s reasoning, but he guessed Maria didn’t know how he felt about her. How would she know? He saw that she was indeed surprised when he suddenly said, ‘This is a conversation I didn’t intend to have yet, Maria—not for a few years, when you were older.’
Maria was intrigued. ‘What are you talking about, Greg?’
‘Can’t you guess?’ Greg reached across the table and caught up her hand. ‘I love you, Maria, and have done for years. I didn’t speak of it because you were set for a glittering future in Dublin.’
‘Would you have just let me go then?’
‘No,’ Greg said. ‘You’d already given me the name and address of the hostel where you would be staying in one of your letters. I intended going to see you a time or two, when I had leave, so that we had a chance to get to know each other. That can never be now, so I will ask you today. Maria, will you be my girl?’
Maria was taken aback and she stared at Greg open-mouthed for a minute or two.
‘Are you shocked?’ Greg asked. ‘Repulsed?’
‘Shocked, yes,’ Maria admitted. ‘But never repulsed. It’s just I’ve never thought of you that way, Greg.’
‘Could you?’
Maria regarded the man before her, his wide-open face, with eyes now full of trepidation, and a generous mouth. She imagined what it would be like to kiss those lips properly, to be held lovingly in Greg’s arms, and at these thoughts a delicious shiver ran all through her. Greg felt it through the fingers he held and still he waited. ‘I think I could, Greg,’ Maria said at last. ‘Yes, I really think I could.’
Greg leant across the table and gave Maria a gentle kiss on the lips. ‘You’ve made me the happiest man in the world at this minute, and on my next leave maybe we can get engaged?’
‘Aye,’ said Maria. It wasn’t how she’d imagined her future, but then none of it was how she’d imagined.
‘I love you so much, Maria,’ Greg said. ‘There aren’t enough words to tell you.’
Oh, how wonderful it felt, Maria thought, to be loved like that. She laid one of her hands on Greg’s arm and the heat of desire for this beautiful girl filled his body. He knew, however, she’d be pure and innocent so any courtship would have to proceed slowly. He’d had a few dalliances with women since he joined the army; most girls seemed to like men in uniform. None of them had meant anything, including the clingy Nancy Dempsey, who tried to stick to him like a limpet, even after he told her it was over.
Well, there was to be no more of that, he told himself. He would be true now to Maria.
As he left Maria at the door that night, Greg kissed her chastely and tentatively, then, as she responded to him, more passionately. Maria felt as if she was drowning in pleasure. The yearning urges in her body she didn’t fully understand, but they caused her to moan softly. Greg tried to loosen the arms he’d had tight around her, lest she feel how aroused he was and be alarmed by it. But his kisses had left her wanting more, and it was Greg who pulled away first.
‘See you tomorrow, darling.’
‘You will?’
‘Of course. Don’t you start work the day after?’
‘Aye.’
‘And the following day, I’m back at camp, and then who knows? We must grab every minute we can.’
‘I know,’ Maria said miserably. ‘I will miss you so much when you go back.’
‘And I’ll miss you, my love,’ Greg said, kissing her again. ‘But go in now, or Bella will give out to you for keeping her up so late.’
Maria knew Greg spoke good sense. It was neither sensible nor right to alienate Bella. However, when she went inside, it wasn’t Bella sitting in the chair before the fire, but Barney.
He had heard with irritation about the young Greg Hopkins, home from the war and buzzing around Maria’s door. His anger was fuelled that evening when he’d called to take Maria to the hospital and found out she had already gone, and with Greg Hopkins. ‘She called to see you at the boatyard and tell you this,’ Bella had said. ‘And all she saw was young Colm Brannigan, who didn’t seem to know where you were at all.’
‘I had to go to Buncrana to see about a boat,’ Barney said. ‘I did tell the boy. He must have forgotten.’
In fact he had been nowhere near Buncrana, but away in the hills with Seamus, learning about a very lucrative business proposal that he preferred above baby-minding a boatyard. However, he wasn’t sharing that with Bella. She was suspicious enough of him already. What he did say was, ‘Well, I have the night to myself, for I had thought to be taking Maria to the hospital, so if you want to get off, I will listen out for her mother. I need to see Maria tonight about a spot of business.’
‘At this time of night?’
Barney shrugged. ‘I’ve been busy all day and the plan was to talk to her on the way into Derry. Now I am here it is pointless the two of us waiting.’
It was, and Bella was tired. ‘Well, I’ll be off then, if you are sure?’
‘Quite sure,’ Barney told her, and Bella made her way home.
Barney noted Maria’s flushed face and dancing eyes just as she noted the glass beside the large bottle of poteen, which was half empty. She was annoyed to find Barney sitting there as if he owned the place, and even more annoyed when he said he’d sent Bella home.
‘You had no right.’
‘I had every right,’ Barney said. ‘She’d been on her feet all day and was tired, yawning like a good one. I sent her home as a kindness to her, and said I would wait for you. Fine consideration you had for the woman doing you a favour, for you are powerfully late.’
Maria flushed with embarrassment, because she knew Barney had a point. ‘Yes, I didn’t mean it to be such a long night. We went for a drink after we’d been in to see Daddy.’
Barney’s innards were twisted with jealousy for Greg Hopkins, who’d had Maria’s company all night, but he remembered Seamus telling him not to fret when he’d complained before. ‘Your man will be back to soldiering soon,’ he’d said, ‘and the way clear for you.’ So Barney swallowed the anger.
‘What are you doing here, anyway?’ Maria asked him.
‘I needed to talk to you.’
‘It’s very late, as you pointed out,’ Maria said. ‘Couldn’t it have waited?’
‘I didn’t think so,’ Barney said. ‘We need to discuss the boatyard.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Maria said. ‘I didn’t know you’d engaged Colm, Willie’s grandson.’
‘He’s left school now and was for ever asking me if I could get him set on.’
‘Even so,’ Maria said, ‘it should have been discussed.’
‘I talked it over with your father,’ Barney said. ‘All right, perhaps I should have mentioned it to you as well, but the point is the boatyard barely makes enough to pay the boy, so I have got another job.’
‘Oh.’
‘It’s delivering supplies over the border to the naval staff.’
‘Oh,’ Maria said again, surprised. ‘Are you employed by the military then?’
‘No, it’s a private concern.’
Barney didn’t elaborate further. He didn’t say he was joining Seamus to smuggle poteen and rationed goods across the border, bringing back petrol, fertiliser and animal feed. All these things were transported under the cover of darkness, as was Seamus’s setting-up of card schools, which now Barney would be involved in. They had special packs of cards and many tricks to fleece the sailors of their money, especially when the sailors’ brains were addled with poteen.
But Maria wasn’t suspicious. In her opinion the services had to have supplies and the job seemed a legitimate one.
‘I’ve told Colm in the afternoons I’ll still be around to deal with anything he can’t handle,’ Barney said.
‘I appreciate that.’
‘Least I can do,’ Barney said, pouring himself another large glass of poteen. He proffered the bottle in Maria’s direction. ‘Want one?’
Maria shook her head. She was more than tired—shattered suddenly—and she really wanted to be rid of Barney so that she could lie in bed and think about the new future Greg had offered her.
Barney saw the dreamy look in Maria’s eyes. Christ! For two pins he call that Greg out and pound him to pulp. And then what? said a little voice in his head. You would be the one up before the magistrate and Maria would never want anything to do with you ever again. Wait till he’s away and you are not before you move in.
‘I’ll be off then,’ he said to Maria. ‘Will I see you tomorrow?’
‘Probably.’
Probably, thought Barney. One time it would have been ‘of course’, but that was before lover boy’s appearance. Well, he would have patience. It wasn’t something he was noted for, but he imagined he could learn it as quick as the next man if he had to.
Early the next evening, Greg took Maria into Derry after she’d taken tea with his family. Maria hadn’t wanted to go to tea, but Greg had insisted. Greg’s parents and his two brothers and two sisters were welcoming, and when Maria left, she knew they would accept her into their family with little or no trouble.
Pulsuz fraqment bitdi.