Mother’s Only Child

‘Now listen,’ he said to Maria as he prepared to leave. ‘I shan’t be over next week, but I will be able to the weekend after. Is that all right with you?’

‘Anytime I can see you will be fine,’ Maria said in thankfulness.

The following Friday Maria had to be sharp with her mother to get her to leave Bella and the shop. She even had to take her hand to prevent her running back to it once they were in the street.

‘For God’s sake, Mammy, will you stop it,’ she said. ‘I’m too tired, cold and hungry for this carry-on. I need to get into the warm, have a sit by the fire and a cup of tea to keep me going till the tea’s cooked and you are not helping, not one bit.’

Some of what Maria had said seemed to penetrate Sarah’s brain and she stopped pulling at her hand and walked calmly enough by her side, but Sam saw his daughter’s face bleached white with tiredness as she bade Dora goodnight, and he felt consumed by shame.

He was always glad of Barney’s company and even more glad of the poteen he brought. He knew that he was drinking far too much of it at times, but he needed it to blur the edges of his God-awful life.

That Sunday, Maria like millions of others, learnt of the bombing of the American Fleet by the Japanese at a place called Pearl Harbor.

Sam recalled the conversation he’d had with Sean just the previous week. ‘The American’s will be in now, whether they like it or not,’ he said to Maria.

‘Many say it’s about time.’

‘Aye, but I’d rather fight a Jerry or a bloody Eyetie than a Nip any day,’ Sam said. ‘Not bloody human, those Nips.’

Maria couldn’t agree more. She wondered if American involvement would affect those in Britain and how, and seriously hoped not. She knew Greg had been based in St George’s Barracks, Sutton Coldfield, but did much of his training in Sutton Park and another place called Cannock Chase, because he’d told her this much. She hoped he was still there, still safe.

Maria wasn’t looking forward to Christmas one bit. She remembered other years when she would help her mother bake the cakes and mince pies, and boil the puddings. The sweet, spicy smell would linger in the air for days and they would sing carols together as they decorated the house with home-made streamers.

This year there was nothing. She was in no mood for making streamers, never mind finding the time to drape them around the room. She’d had no time either to make up any of the usual goodies and it was hard not to feel depressed about it, especially as there was no news of Greg coming home.

Then, the Friday before Christmas, 19 December, the men came. Con had visited before quite a few times, but this was every man that Sam had engaged to work in the docks. Many brought things from their wives - mince pies, a Christmas cake. Another brought a pudding, one had a cherry cake, another sausage rolls, while two sent half a dozen fresh duck eggs. Each of the men had a bottle or two in his hand.

Maria was overwhelmed with the men’s generosity, but just as delighted that they took time to talk with her father. She busied herself bringing out more chairs and getting glasses for them all. Soon a bluish fug of tobacco smoke hung in the air, mixed with the smell of whiskey and poteen. Maria tackled a pile of ironing and listened to the chatter in the room. The voices rose and fell, occasionally laughter bursting into the air. Maria saw how her father’s face was animated and knew she had been right: it was the company of men he missed.

Maria had given up her lunch hour to search Derry for presents, though the shops were not well stocked at all. She’d posted Greg’s presents early: socks, a scarf, a large bar of chocolate, twenty cigarettes and a packet of the bull’s-eyes he liked so much.

She also managed to get a soft shawl for Dora, fleece-lined slippers for Bella, and socks and hankies for Barney. For her father she had a new pipe and tobacco and a large bottle of whiskey.

She expected nothing from Greg but a card, if he was able to get one, so she was intrigued to receive a parcel the day before Christmas Eve. She lifted it down from the mantelpiece where Dora had put it, aware of the woman hovering, as anxious as she was to find out what was in it.

When Maria exposed the ring box, she felt as if her heart had stopped beating and she slowly opened it up. The ring was a diamond solitaire and so beautiful it took her breath away.

My Darling, darling Maria,

I can wait no longer to give you this. I know girls often like to choose their own rings, but I want you to wear this now so that everyone can see your heart belongs to me. I had to guess the size, so if it’s wrong, wear it round your neck till I come home. My beloved Maria, there aren’t enough words to tell you how much I love you and miss you, and how I lie in bed each night and go over and over the time we spent together. I may get leave in the spring—I don’t know. They tell us nothing, but you may be sure I will be hotfooting down to you as soon as I ever can.

There was more, much more, but the tears seeped from Maria’s eyes as she put the ring on, twisting her hand this way and that so the diamond sparkled as the lights caught it.

‘Ah, God, will you look at that. D’you see, Sam?’ Dora cried.

‘Come nearer, child,’ Sam said, taking Maria’s hand as she drew closer.

Maria was hesitant with her father. Maybe he’d be hurt by this sign that Maria was leaving childhood behind; maybe he’d feel his permission should have been asked.

However, when she said this, her father smiled and squeezed her hand. ‘He did ask me, child, the time he came into hospital, when you took yourself off to powder your nose. He told me he’d loved you from the first time he’d seen you, but knew you were too young for him to speak and wouldn’t have done it just yet if things had gone to plan. Child, I want you to have a good, caring man by your side to share this burden you have taken on. Oh, I know Greg is in the army just now, but the war will not last for ever. He is a fine young man, one to be proud of, and he will make you a good husband.’

‘Thank you, Daddy.’

Maria doubted her mother took in the significance of the ring, but Barney did and he was shocked. He hadn’t been aware the relationship had gone so far in the short space of time they’d had together, for Maria had never mentioned to Barney that she was writing to Greg, nor that she’d taken to visiting Greg’s family.

‘Can you not be happy for me, Barney?’ she asked, noting his sullen face.

Barney could hardly tell her the truth. ‘You’re too young, far too young,’ he said.

‘For marriage, maybe,’ Maria said, ‘but this is engagement only.’

But it was enough. Barney felt sick to the pit of his stomach. ‘I have a present for you too,’ he said grudgingly, ‘though you’ll hardly want it now.’

‘Of course I will.’

Later, Maria looked at the dainty gold locket on the fine chain and thanked Barney with a peck on his cheek, though she wondered if she had been wise to accept it. It was like the gift a boy or man would give to his girlfriend. Surely Barney didn’t think…he couldn’t imagine…He came nearly every night to see her father and that was all, she told herself. He’d never given her more than a cursory glance. He had no one to advise him that the locket was an unsuitable gift, that was all it was. She dropped the locket in the drawer of her dressing table and threaded the ring on the chain, for it was rather large for her finger and she didn’t want to wear it openly till Greg was home and the engagement announced properly.

There was great jollification on New Year’s Eve at Maria’s house. The men who’d come before Christmas were joined by several others carrying instruments—a fiddle, banjo, accordion and bodhrán. They played the polkas and jigs they’d learnt in childhood.

Maria joined her female neighbours at the dancing. Then suddenly, as she wheeled around the room, she was caught up around the waist by one of the men not playing. Other men took hold of women until the whole room was a mass of people dancing. Even Bella, Maria saw, was inveigled into getting on her feet.

Sarah seemed to be enjoying herself as she sat before the fire, a smile playing about her mouth, and Sam’s face was one beam of delight. Eventually Maria stopped, a rosy hue to her face and gasping a little with the unaccustomed exertion.

‘Phew, I need a drink,’ she said to Dora, who was sitting by the table laid with goodies.

‘Another one has need of a drink too,’ Dora said grimly, indicating Con’s wife, sour-faced Brenda. ‘She has upset half the room and has watched every drop that has passed Con’s lips. Will you give her some stiff glasses of poteen to maybe loosen her up a bit? Anyway, the face on her would turn the milk sour.’

Maria laughed. ‘Oh, Dora, I couldn’t, and maybe she’d be worse if she had the drink on her.’

‘She couldn’t be worse, and if you care about Con at all, do all in your power to get that woman totally bottled,’ Dora said with an emphatic nod. ‘I’ll help you.’

Maria, Dora, and Bella—who joined in, seeing what they were at—plied the woman with drinks all night. In the end Con nearly had to carry her home. ‘At least she went with a smile on her face,’ Bella remarked.

‘Aye, but I wouldn’t have her head in the morning.’

‘It is New Year’s Eve,’ Bella remarked. ‘They’ll be a fair few the same.’

‘Aye, and one of them my father,’ Maria remarked. ‘Good job I’ve kept my wits about me for I have the feeling Mammy will be the very devil to settle tonight too.’

Cold and blustery weather heralded 1942. First, there was snow descending from the leaden skies like a blanket of white, the blustery winds causing drifts as high as the windowsills, and piling on the roads to freeze at night, turning the place into a skating rink. The thaw in February was followed by rain, peppering the roads like bullets, driven by powerful winds to hammer on the windows and soak any unfortunate caught out in it in seconds.

Maria was glad to reach the mugginess and doubtful heat of the workroom. Often her sodden coat, like many others, would steam over the gas fire in the staff room, especially lit for that purpose.

The girls all grumbled about the weather. ‘It’s every day the bloody same,’ Joanne said morosely. ‘And the constant grey skies would put years on a body.’

‘I must admit, I am fed up constantly feeling damp,’ Maria said. ‘The spring can’t come soon enough for me.’

But the weather ceased to matter the day Maria got the letter inside the birthday card from Greg, saying there was every likelihood he would get a spot of leave towards the end of the month. That day she had met the postman on the way to the bus stop and read the letter on the way to work.