The First Time I Said Goodbye (10 page)

She sighed and Dolores gave her a strange look – a look which made my heart sink to my boots. They weren’t going to let it go.

“Annabel, why don’t you have a seat?” Dolores said.

I felt a slight panic – the same slight panic that Sam had just helped me over – rise in me again as I sat down.

I looked at my mother, whose face was blazing, and back at Dolores who was staring at my mother with her eyebrows raised and face contorted into some sort of strange expression.

“The thing is,” Dolores started when it was clear my mother was not going to say whatever it was Dolores wanted her to say, “it’s not strictly entirely in the past. We’ve heard that there is a Naval Base reunion next week. Of course only a fraction of the men who served in Derry over the years will come to it . . . but he might well come.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “That’s no big deal. The fact he might be there doesn’t affect us in any way.”

My mother raised her head and looked at me. “I want to see him, Anna,” she said softly. “I want to see him again.”

* * *

Derry, September 1959

She wasn’t meant to be there. She had never been before and hadn’t been at all interested in the boys from the Base. She wasn’t interested in men or looking for romance at all at that stage, having just broken up with her boyfriend of two years.

“Stella, please,” said Dolores as she brushed her hair in the mirror. “Mammy won’t let me go if you don’t go with me and I really want to.”

She looked back at Dolores, her younger sister by just eleven months, pleading with her, a pout so full on her lips that she looked as if she had been punched square in the face.

“You’re only saying this because you want to see that Jimmy,” Stella said, knowing full well her sister had been courted by a twenty-one-year-old from Maine and she was totally enamoured of him.

“I’ll go with you and you’ll leave me sitting on my own like an eejit all night while you make eyes at GI Jimmy.”

“I won’t, I promise,” Dolores said. “And besides, other girls from the factory will be there too. Ivy and May are going.”

“To see their own fellahs, no doubt.” Stella continued brushing her hair, at least 100 strokes a night were required for it to retain its gloss. She’d read that in one of her magazines and she was on Day 8 of her new regime. It was time to pick herself up again, she thought, after her relationship with Larry hit the rocks. Everyone had been so convinced they would marry – she’d even been half convinced of it herself, even though, if she was honest, something about it never felt right. Or at least it never felt like it was meant to be – not how it looked in the pictures anyway. She was twenty and felt time was flying on. If she wanted to get married and settle down, she couldn’t let her appearance slide.

“Sure Ivy doesn’t have a fellah, but she’s keen on one of the Yanks. Jimmy promised me that if you come out he’ll have a date for you too. You won’t be on your own.”

Stella pulled a face as she dragged the brush through her hair for the 97th time.

“Please, Stella,” Dolores pleaded. “Please!”

Rolling her eyes and lifting a bobby pin to start fixing her hair, Stella sighed. “Okay, Dolores, but no funny business. No late night. And don’t even think about letting me sit on my own!”

* * *

Ray would later tell her he saw her that night. He saw her as soon as she walked into the Base Social Club, her hair done up in large pin curls, wearing a floral tea dress which hugged her curves and brushed against her legs.

She didn’t know that, of course. She was just there to keep Dolores company and to make sure she didn’t get into any trouble. When Jimmy’s friend – a gangly, red-haired, loudmouth who called himself Dusty – insisted she had a drink, she ordered a Babycham, trying to look sophisticated even though she had never drunk before. She would have refused if she had known Dusty would see her accepting the drink as some sort of invitation to try and get fresh with her when all eyes were turned towards the band on the stage.

Stella spent most of the night trying to avoid talking to, or being groped by Dusty. She pulled Dolores and Ivy – who herself seemed to have taken quite a shine to Dusty – onto the dance floor in turn.

Ray would tell her later that when he saw her dance, her head thrown back, a peal of laughter ringing from her lips, he fell in love with her. That night, however, she didn’t know he existed. She was just glad to get home and away from Dusty and his wandering hands. She swore she wouldn’t go back to the Base again.

* * *

Derry, June 2010

“You’re very cross with me,” my mother said.

We were sitting in Auntie Dolores’ good room. A gallery of family pictures stared down at us – watching us, judging us like they were an audience on some sort of Jerry Springer-esque chat show.

I shook my head even though I was very cross with my mother but she was always someone I was never able to express my anger to. Telling my mother that I was cross with her would be like kicking a puppy or punching a kitten. I’d only end up feeling worse for admitting my feelings.

“No, Mom, it’s not that.”

“You are, aren’t you? I can’t blame you, with me telling you I want to meet this man from my past.”

A little shiver ran up my spine. I didn’t like to think of my mother having a past – ever. I was happy enough to see her in the present. I still struggled to find the words to tell her how I felt and the pause was enough for her to jump in with another plea for me to tell her I was cross with her.

“You can tell me, Annabel. I know you are. I can see it written all over your face.”

“Mom,” I started, her pleading starting to really annoy me, “can we just leave it?”

She straightened up and had a quick glance at our forefathers on the walls around us.

“Actually, pet, I’m not sure we can. I don’t know why you’re so keen on burying things and moving on.”

“Seems to me that’s exactly what you did when it came to Dad,” I snapped, not even realising what I had been about to say before it was out of my mouth to the imagined gasp of the gallery around us.

My mother swayed, just a little tiny bit, while she closed her eyes and opened them again, and I knew my words had hit hard. I felt a flush of heat rise from my neck to my face and I wanted to start apologising because being confrontational wasn’t like me. But maybe this is what needed to be said. I
was
cross, if the truth be told.

“I deserved that,” my mother said stoically. “And I don’t blame you for your reaction. But it’s not what you think and I’ve not forgotten your father.”

“Well, that’s good to know, after over forty years of marriage. Nice to know he still factors in there somewhere.”

“That’s not fair,” my mother bit back at me. “I was never anything less than a loyal and loving wife to your father. I nursed him to the end. I did my duty by him.” Her eyes were wide and her voice filled with emotion.

“You did your duty?” I spat the words at her. She “did her duty”. She wasn’t supposed to do her duty. She loved him. They loved each other. She couldn’t be allowed to take that from me.

“Don’t be like that, Anna,” she said. “You know what I mean.”

“No, Mom. I actually don’t know what you mean at all. And tell me this,” I continued, a thought landing in my head, “did you know about the reunion before we booked this? Was this in the plan all along? Did you bring me here knowing this is what you would do?”

My mother looked at me. She didn’t move her head and she didn’t open her mouth but her silence gave me all the answer I needed. In that moment I didn’t care if I looked like I was kicking a puppy dog or punching a kitten, my anger and hurt was rising in me so fast that it was all I could do to stand up and walk out of the room without taking the door off the hinges as I pulled it closed behind me.

“Sam!” I called. “Do you think we could go home now?”

* * *

“Do you think there is a limit to the number of times you can storm out of a room before it loses effect?”

“Technically you didn’t storm the first time,” Sam offered.

“It felt like a storm. And second time was a storm – all it was missing was a slamming of the door but I don’t think your mom would have appreciated it.”

He shrugged his shoulders and with a slight smile switched on the coffee machine. “She likes a bit of drama.”

“Well, she got that with me. I feel a little mortified, to be honest. If there is a limit to storming out of a room I’m pretty sure I reached it. And the look on my mother’s face! Jeez!”

I knew I was angry with her – and perhaps more than angry I was disappointed in her, but I had hated seeing her face as it dawned on her just how angry I was. I had hated seeing her face
crumple just that little bit. She had regained her composure quickly, of course, but that crumple . . . God, it cut right into me.

I took the cup of coffee from Sam and sipped from it while my mind raced with a thousand different thoughts. If she had known about the reunion before she asked me to come back here, just a day after Dad’s funeral, then how long had she known? How long had she been planning this? Had she spoken to Ray? Had she been thinking of him even as Dad took his last breath? The thought brought tears to my eyes, which I brushed away.

“Do you have anything stronger than coffee?” I asked Sam.

“I thought you didn’t really drink?”

“Exceptional times, exceptional measures. And perhaps it will blot it all out a little bit?”

Sam sat down beside me. “Annabel, I do have drink, if you want some. I’ll gladly open a bottle or a beer or whatever you want, but I’m worried about you blotting it all out a bit. Now I don’t know you from Adam and you owe me nothing and you are well within your rights to tell me to frig off with myself, but do you really, really want to blot it out?”

“Yes,” I nodded, thinking to myself he had just asked me the stupidest question since stupid questions began.

Of course I wanted to blot it out – why would I not want to blot it out? Life had been one big massive, unwelcome and relentless reality-check of late and there were certain things that I was more than happy to continue to blot out. Surely there were only so many crappy things any one person should have to deal with at any one time? Surely blotting things out was something I was absolutely entitled to. I’m sure some therapists would expressly say it was something I should do. Take whatever life was throwing at me in bite-size pieces.

“Blotting it out works for me,” I said.

He looked unconvinced. “The problem with blotting it out, cousin of mine, is that it is still there. It doesn’t go away because you cover it up. It just feels worse when you have a hangover afterwards.”

“At the moment a hangover is preferable,” I said. “I know you think I’m awfully cowardly. But I quite like the idea of a pause button now. If it will still be there after the hangover, there is no need to rush it. Still there is still there. We can’t get away from it.”

Chapter 10

Every second that I’m not with you, not hidden away together in our wee flat, is a minute when I feel emptier and lonelier than ever before.

* * *

Derry, September 1959

The second time Ray saw Stella Hegarty was a week later. He hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. He had been annoyed with himself. He had been determined to keep things professional during his station in Derry. He had seen his fellow marines fall for their share of Derry girls. He had seen how the girls had fawned over them as if they were some kind of movie stars with their exotic accents, a bit of money in their pockets and the promise of a new life in America. He wasn’t interested in that. He just wanted to get through his time in Derry and get back to the States where he would demob and return to civilian life. His father already had a job lined up for him in an up-and-coming construction company. He had his eye on a girl back home. He was happy enough to wait for her.

At least he had been until he saw Stella Hegarty, her perfectly preened hair and her sparkling blue eyes and that nervous smile which told him she was out of her comfort zone. She had nursed the same drink for over an hour and when it was finished he noted she didn’t order another. She had seemed bored, not dazzled, or pretending to be dazzled by what was around her. She looked a little lost and Ray was always a sucker for a damsel in distress. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to go and talk to her. He had been so cross with himself. He had promised he would not fall for a local lady so had stayed back and not gone to speak to her, until the urge to say hello got too much for him. But of course she had gone by then. He saw it as some divine intervention and had consoled himself with the thought that it simply wasn’t meant to be. And yet still he couldn’t get her out of his mind.

So when he walked into The Diamond Bar and saw her immediately, her head thrown back in laughter, he felt his heartbeat quicken. She wasn’t dressed up to the nines that day – he reckoned she must work in one of the local shirt factories and had not long come from work. She sat in a group of friends, laughing loudly at some story they were telling. Her laugh travelled across the smoky air of the bar and he found himself staring, until he was nudged in the ribs by his friend Mike who told him to put his tongue back in.