A Daughter’s Secret

‘Where’s Cissie?’ Aggie asked, scanning the room.

‘Cissie isn’t coming tonight,’ McAllister said, crossing to stand beside her. ‘She has the measles. Her mother caught me in the town and told me, but I came on here to wait for you.’

‘How awful for her,’ Aggie said. ‘Poor Cissie.’ And then disappointment trickled through her body as she said uncertainly, ‘Well, I had better go then.’

‘Why?’ McAllister said, drawing her into the room and closing the door with his foot. ‘Do you want to go?’

McAllister’s face was very close, and Aggie said, ‘No, not really but—’

‘You are very lovely, you know, Agnes,’ McAllister said, cutting across her.

No one had ever mentioned loveliness to Agnes and her eyes opened wide. ‘Am I?’

‘You are,’ McAllister said emphatically. ‘Did no one ever tell you that before?’ he asked, knowing just how unlikely that was.

‘No, never.’

‘Anyone ever tell you how your eyes sparkle brighter than the stars in the sky?’ McAllister asked. As Aggie’s face flushed further with embarrassment he added, ‘And that you look so enchanting when you blush.’

‘Oh, Bernie, really,’ Aggie said, flustered. ‘Please don’t say such things.’

‘Why?’ McAllister asked. ‘Don’t you wish to hear them?’

‘No, not really. I’m sure it is wrong to make a person think too much of themselves, especially when the things said are not true.’

‘Who said they were not true?’

‘Exaggerated then …’

‘Not a bit of it,’ McAllister cried. ‘Look into a mirror, Agnes, my darling girl, and you will see it all for yourself.’

‘You have me all of a dither.’

McAllister caught up her hand and said, ‘Don’t be ashamed or embarrassed, for as you grow up you’ll hear many such comments. And you must learn to accept them gracefully and thank the person applauding you so.’

‘Oh, I do thank you, Bernie,’ Aggie said earnestly. ‘It was just that it was so unexpected. I am not at all used to hearing people say such things about me.’

‘That’s all right,’ McAllister smiled. ‘And now to show you that I really mean the things I said, I will give you a wee kiss!’

Aggie returned the smile and, expecting the type of kiss that he gave both her and Cissie when they were leaving each Wednesday evening, she said, ‘All right.’

McAllister caught Aggie’s face up between his hands and kissed her mouth gently and then, as if Aggie’s arms had a life of their own, they encircled his neck. His kiss became more ardent and demanding, and Aggie’s whole being began to shake, and she knew she wanted that kiss to go on and on for ever.

When they broke apart at last, both were breathless. Aggie dropped her arms and pulled herself from McAllister’s embrace before allowing herself to look into his eyes. She saw the yearning there and though she didn’t understand it, she was a little alarmed by it. But what was more worrying by far were the strange longings she had coursing through her own body, feelings the like of which she had never had before and wasn’t sure they weren’t downright sinful.

‘Oh, Agnes,’ McAllister said, ‘that was truly wonderful.’

‘I know. But I don’t think we should have done it.’

‘And why not? Don’t say you didn’t enjoy it, for I shall not believe it. It wasn’t a stranger’s arms that came about my neck, or a stranger’s lips kissing me so hard.’

‘I know,’ Aggie admitted, her face flaming again, but this time with shame. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.’

‘Don’t be sorry. Did I push you away?’

‘No, but …’

‘For two pins I would repeat the experience,’ McAllister said, reaching out for Aggie, but she twirled out of his grasp.

‘No, no!’ she cried. ‘We mustn’t.’

‘We mustn’t,’ McAllister mimicked, but gently. ‘Mustn’t touch, mustn’t kiss, and mustn’t have fun in any shape or form.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Stop being sorry. Stop saying you’re sorry,’ he snapped. He seemed to think for a moment and then suddenly said, ‘Well, if a kiss and cuddle is out, then we must dance. Take off your shawl and boots and we’ll make a start.’

Aggie looked at him and knew that while one part of her wanted to go into his arms willingly, the other part was urging her to bid the man good night and go home. She did neither, and as she removed her shawl she said, ‘I can’t dance without Cissie,’ because the two girls had been practising a duet they were to perform in the Christmas concert put on by the Church.

‘Aren’t you the girl for finding problems where there are none?’ McAllister said. ‘We will do dances that need not include Cissie.’

‘We will?’

‘Yes, we will. They are called polkas. They’re fun to do and a chance for me to hold you in my arms legitimately. What do you say?’

‘I say maybe I should go home.’

‘You disappoint me, Agnes.’ McAllister shook his head sadly. ‘Really you do.’

Aggie thought of her home and knew she wouldn’t be right in the door before her mother would be roaring at her for something and there would be a list of jobs waiting for her. And if she went, she would upset the man she admired before all others. Anyway, she wanted to stay in the church hall, lit softly by the paraffin lamps, and she knew too she would be warmed further by McAllister’s arms around her as they moved to the music.

‘I’ll stay,’ she decided, facing him, and he beamed in approval.

‘Good girl.’ And he took her in his arms.

Aggie loved the polkas, the tantalising and evocative music, and dancing in McAllister’s arms was just heavenly. They danced for ages, stopping only when the gramophone needed cranking up. Eventually they were completely out of breath.

‘Sit down and recover before you attempt the walk home,’ McAllister invited. ‘And tell me about yourself.’

Aggie couldn’t remember opening her soul as she did that night with McAllister. The man listened to the child – she was little more – who was at it from dawn till dusk just because she had the misfortune to be the elder girl in the family.

‘That’s why I love dancing, you see,’ she said. ‘It is a chance to get out. Mammy would have stopped me ages ago if Daddy hadn’t put his foot down.’

‘I’m glad he did then.’

‘Mm, so am I. Have you any family? Brothers, sisters?’

‘I have three brothers older than me who hightailed it to the States, and an older sister, Gwen, living in Birmingham,’ McAllister told her, taking a hip flask of poteen out of his pocket as he spoke and taking a long drink. ‘I was the baby.’