Mrs. Gilmore’s attention was constantly drawn towards the birds flitting from tree to tree in the tiny private garden, where she sat with her husband. Doctor Gilmore patted the seat beside him, gesturing for Mary-Anne to join them for some afternoon tea and that meant only one thing.
She knew it was wrong, but Mary-Anne couldn’t help herself. Gilmore’s attempts to touch her in an inappropriate manner had become a game to them both. Mary-Anne began to crave the sensation caused by such furtive behaviour. At night she lay in a bed so soft, compared to the one she normally shared with her sister Breege, that it caused her to feel even more lascivious. She had only been three days in the house with Doctor Gilmore and his wife, but had fallen asleep each night disappointed he had not come to her room.
Mary-Anne’s heightened emotions did not go unnoticed by her mother. She questioned her daughters about any men that their sister might be keeping company with. Even Maggie was interrogated on the subject.
“If Mary-Anne has a suitor she will tell us in her own good time. She’s a grown woman, after all, Mary. You’ll have to cut her free from your apron strings sooner or later,” said Maggie.
“I still see her as a girl. I can’t help it – she was such a sickly child. Even now, her chest is not good in damp weather. Sure, our Breege is much more of a woman than Mary-Anne will ever be. You said that to me, yourself, only last week did you not?”
“Aye, I did indeed, Mary. And I still stand by it. But Mary-Anne is cunning, and well able to mind herself. So stop your fretting now, and we’ll go outside and weed that garden of yours, while the day is fine. We haven’t been blessed with too many dry days this year, more’s the pity.”
James, awake in the loft bedroom overhead, had heard every word of the conversation. He had been trying to catch up on his sleep, having spent the night fishing on Matthew Clarke’s boat. He looked across at his youngest, Jamie, and wondered where the years had gone. Downstairs his wife and sister were discussing their grown up daughters and calling them women, while young Jamie, was already a fisherman, barely into his teens.
‘I’m getting old,’ James thought as he eased his aching body into action. Once on his feet and moving about, he began to feel less stiff and by the time he had reached the bottom of the stairs he felt ten years younger. Jamie’s loud snores from the room upstairs could be heard throughout the quiet house. Letting him have his sleep, his father decided against waking him up with a cup of tea. Having the parlour to himself was a rare thing for James and he intended making the most of it.
Taking a newspaper from a drawer in the dresser, James swung the large black kettle directly over the fire and waited for the water to come back to a boil. He knew the plate of bread on the table had been left there by Mary, for himself and Jamie. The thought struck him that he should go out and help the women in the garden, but he dismissed it immediately. He was sure they would rather have the time to talk freely between themselves, without a man hovering around them.
As soon as his breakfast was over and a second cup of tea poured out, James unfolded the paper. He was not one for eating and reading at the same time, so the anticipation of the latest news to be unveiled had him ready to devour every word in front of his eyes. A voice calling to him from outside cut into a report about an armed robbery in one of the estate houses in a nearby county. James looked over the paper to see Catherine leaning on the closed part of the half-door, smiling at him.
“Am I disturbing your bit of peace and quiet, Da?”
Sighing, James folded his paper and laid it on the table. He still had a soft spot for his eldest and always enjoyed her company.
“Not at all, girl. Come in and sit yourself down, or is it your ma you’re wanting to see?” James was pouring her some tea as he spoke.
“No Da, I’ve already been round the back. Herself and Maggie are like work horses out there, I was getting tired just looking at them. I think I was more in the way when I tried to help them with the weeding. They kept watching me in case I pulled up the wrong plant,” Catherine sipped the hot tea. “Thank you, Da. Thirsty work, gardening, isn’t it?”
They both laughed, but James noticed a sadness in his daughter’s eyes. He waited for her to say something but she just stared at the half open door and seemed lost in thought.
“Are all the children faring well, love?” he asked.
“They are, Da. Fit as fiddles the three of them. Thomas and Lily have taken them to play on the sand, now that the tide is out. They’ve taken a right shine to their new auntie. What do you make of her, yourself?” Catherine asked.
“She seems a fine young woman, from what I can see. Thomas has been blessed twice with good women, and him still so young.”
“Do you feel blessed too? Or are the women in your life more of a curse to you?”
James was taken aback at the bitterness in his daughter’s tone. She was the last person he would have expected to ask such a question, considering how close they had always been.
“Of course I feel blessed. What reason have I ever given you to think otherwise?”
Catherine could hear the hurt in his voice and immediately apologized, giving the excuse of a bad night’s sleep for her sharpness.
“Why do you avoid my home so, Da? Is it because of Patrick?” the question was out before she could stop herself.
An awkward silence followed, while James busied himself pouring more tea into their half-filled cups.
“I cannot lie to you, Catherine. No matter how much I try, I don’t seem to be able to warm to that man of yours. Surely that’s a common enough feeling between men, when one of them takes away the other’s daughter,” said James.
The two of them sat looking at each other across the table and Catherine could see how much her father loved her, just from the expression on his face. The silence in the house added to the intensity of the moment and she had an overwhelming urge to tell him about the terrible secret she had been living with for such a long time. One that she could never share with her husband.
A loud crying broke the silence between them and Catherine jumped up from her chair, just as Lily appeared at the gate in front of the house. She was carrying Ellen, who was holding out her arms towards her mother.
“She fell and scratched her palms. I couldn’t stop her crying. I’m sure she didn’t hit her head,” said Lily.
Catherine kissed the scratches on her toddler’s small hands and was cuddling her close, when Maggie and Mary ran in from the garden.
“Merciful heaven, what ails the child? She sounds like a stuck pig,” said Maggie.
At the sound of the older woman’s voice, Ellen pulled away from her mother, stretched out her arms and displayed the bright red marks on her upturned hands.
“Ah you poor wee mite,” consoled Maggie, taking the child from her mother. “Sit down here on my old rickety knee and tell us all about it.”
“Is Thomas not with you?” asked Catherine.
“We met up with Patrick and I told the two of them to go to Paddy Mac’s and have a drink while I stayed with the children. I’m sorry for letting Ellen hurt herself, I shouldn’t have let her run around so much, should I?”
“Of course you should. That’s not the first fall she’s had and it won’t be the last. Will it, my wee treasure?” Maggie tickled the child on her lap.
Young Jamie appeared at the foot of the stairs, woken by the loud crying, and Mary sent him to Paddy Mac’s to fetch Thomas and Patrick.
“Tell them to come up and eat their meal with the rest of the family, while we are still all together,” Mary smiled sadly at Lily.
By the time the two men arrived back with Jamie, the table had been set. The food prepared earlier that morning sat waiting for them, steaming potatoes, breaking out of their skins, cabbage fresh from the garden and two boiled chickens.
James looked at the meat, then caught his wife’s eye and smiled, “Two more hens past their prime, I see,” he tickled his granddaughter, Maisie, under the chin. “You’ll come to visit me one of these days and your granny will have me in the pot, with some of her herbs and a few onions. Do you think I’ll taste as nice as those old hens there?”
Maisie hugged her grandfather and made her grandmother promise never to cook him. The laughter and joking around the table sent a warm feeling through James and he made a promise to himself to put more effort into liking his son-in-law. It wasn’t in him to bear grudges, especially for such a long period of time. Just when he was thinking along those lines, Patrick opened his mouth and ruined the moment.
“Do you think it right that a pair of hens, that you reared yourself, and a serving of vegetables should be considered a feast?” the question was addressed to no one in particular.
“Are you complaining about the food, or is it the company that bothers you?” asked James.
Even little Ellen fell silent, as the two men stared at each other.
“I’m not complaining. The food is the best that anyone could ask for. I’m saying that a hard-working man should be able to provide such a meal for his family every day,” Patrick replied, holding the older man’s steady gaze.
“I see. So I take it you do not consider me a hard-working man?”
“Of course I do, James. There’s few men put more work into a week than yourself. Should you not see more fruit for your labour? Or are you satisfied with the meagre payment you are given for a well-built wall or an outhouse?”
“Times are hard these days, for farmers and landlords alike. The weather has been wreaking havoc on the crops. There’s not much money in anyone’s pocket of late – even the landlords’,” said Thomas. “Why not leave this conversation for later, over a drink at Paddy Mac’s. Judging by the wind that’s come up I doubt either of you will be fishing tonight.”
The women were grateful for Thomas’s words. James and Patrick continued to stare at each other for a few more seconds, like opponents in a stand-off.
“I am not the enemy, James. Thomas is right and I apologize for bringing such serious talk to the table,” Patrick turned to his son and ruffled his hair. “Why not give us one of your favourite songs to cheer us all up again, son.”
“But Ma always says I’m not to speak with my mouth full.”
“Ah, but she never said anything about singing with it full, did she?”
The children all laughed at their father’s joke and the tension immediately left the room. A genuine smile even appeared on James’s face, but one person remained ill at ease. Catherine watched as her husband playfully teased his children and wondered why he would make light of the manners she tried to teach them. She feared that something was brewing inside him and knew it was only a matter of time before it came out. When that happened there would be no holding him back.