The First Time I Said Goodbye (18 page)

Lying back on the pillows I started to read, started to try and see this from her perspective. Tried not to think too much about my father. Tried to understand what had brought her, me in tow, back here.

The words – neat loops and lines, gently slanting letters – were filled with love and raw emotion.

“You promised me the world. And I took yours from you . . .
”

Chapter 16

I’m starting to understand now. I get that you want nothing more to do with me – but still there is a part of me which hopes that someday, in some way, I can make it better.

* * *

Derry, December 1959

When Stella put the dress on she felt as if she was living someone else’s life. Someone infinitely more glamorous. Someone with decorum and deportment who belonged on the arm of a blue-eyed marine walking into a fancy hotel. It was cream organza – like nothing she had ever owned before. She imagined it was the sort of thing Doris Day would wear as she wooed Rock Hudson in one of their glossy movies. Her shoes were new, smart and satin-covered, pinching at her toes as she walked – not that she cared. A neighbour had loaned her a fur stole which she draped around her shoulders and her hair was coiffed with enough lacquer to make sure there was no chance of it shifting – not even if a hurricane were to blow the roof off the City Hotel and whirl them all off to Oz.

Ray came to pick her up at the house, bringing with him a box of chocolates for her mother, which made her blush like a schoolgirl.

“You’re very good, Ray,” her mother had swooned while her father had sat back on his chair laughing.

“Kathleen, a man walks in here in uniform and you lose the run of yourself. What are you like?”

“It’s not just the uniform, Ernest, and well you know it. He brought chocolates too! And sure hasn’t he our Stella looking like the belle of the ball?”

“He does indeed,” Ernest said, smiling. “You look stunning, my dear.”

Stella smiled warmly back at him before turning to Ray who was staring at her as if he had never seen her before.

“She looks more than stunning,” Ray said softly. “I promise I’ll look after her.”

“You’d better,” her mother laughed. “Or I’ll send her brothers after you!”

“To be honest, ma’am,” Ray said with a cheeky wink that made Stella’s heart beat a little faster, “I’m more afraid of Dolores.”

This of course prompted a howl of outrage from Dolores who thumped Ray playfully on the arm. “And so you should be, marine! I could beat any one of you in a fight.”

“I don’t doubt it for a moment,” he had replied, rubbing his arm. “But I plan not to test that theory, if that’s all right?”

“Don’t hurt my sister and you won’t have to,” Dolores grinned, winking at Stella who couldn’t help but smile back.

“I wouldn’t,” Ray said. “You have to believe that, all of you, because this girl is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

“God, man,” Stella’s daddy chirped, “you have it bad! These women are turning you soft!”

Stella couldn’t help but smile more, as she wound her arm in Ray’s and said her goodbyes to her parents. She had a feeling that night would be a special one.

“Be good!” her mother called after her as they headed out into the street to walk the short distance, over Ferryquay Street and down Shipquay Street, to the hotel.

The night was clear and crisp, the stars twinkling brightly above them.

“You really do look so beautiful,” Ray said, stopping by a lamplight on Shipquay Street and pulling her close to him.

She felt the warmth of his body against hers and instinctively leaned into him, revelling in the feeling of him being so close to her. Feeling his hand on her neck, tipping her head towards his, she closed her eyes and allowed him to kiss her and she felt herself shiver with a longing she had been trying to push down for so long.

Breaking away from him she took a deep breath. “We need to go to the ball, Ray. This will never do,” she said with a smile, stroking his cheek and the soft bristle where his beard was already starting to poke through again.

“No, I don’t suppose it will,” he said, brushing his lips softly against her forehead. “So as it is clear you’re not going to let me whisk you away to the love nest instead, will we walk on?”

“Much as I would love to let you whisk me away to the love nest, it would be a sin before Holy God and His Mother not to show off this dress so I’m terribly sorry, but on we go!” She laughed as she spoke but felt secretly delighted that he had wanted to whisk her off in the first place.

“Let’s go then, my lady,” he said and on they walked.

The function room at the City Hotel did not disappoint, especially not with the Christmas decorations glinting in the light of the chandeliers. The room was buzzing with chat and laughter. Glasses clinked, smoke hung heavy in the air. She glanced around at her fellow guests – women dressed to the nines, scent liberally sprayed, not a hair of out of place – and she was glad of the effort she had made.

Ray guided her through the crowds, lifting two champagne flutes from a waiter as he went.

“Here,” he said, handing her a glass, which she eyed suspiciously.

She had never tasted champagne – she wasn’t sure it wouldn’t make her giddy and lightheaded. She felt every inch the sophisticate and, she supposed, sophisticated ladies didn’t turn down complimentary glasses of champagne.

“To us!” she said, raising her glass to Ray who raised his glass in return and, clinking it against hers, repeated “To us!” They
both sipped and, as the bubbles tickled the back of her throat and her nose, she felt herself start to cough and splutter. As much as she tried to hold it in, she couldn’t – the sharp taste of the champagne was clawing at her throat, making her eyes water. He would think she was such a hick, she thought as she, face blazing, looked at him to see that he too was spluttering and wiping his
eyes with his free hand. He caught her gaze and laughed.

“Have you never had champagne before either?” he asked while trying to catch his breath.

“No,” she replied. “It’s not really a popular drink around these parts. We prefer a nice cup of tea.”

“So do I,” he laughed.

They sat their glasses on a nearby table and walked on to find their seats for the evening. “We make a good pair, Stella Hegarty,” he said. “Let’s just sit here and behave ourselves and try not to let anyone know we are not the kind of people who drink champagne with dinner every night.”

He squeezed her hand and she relaxed again, the plush surroundings of the hotel not seeming so daunting any more. Sure she had Ray and he had her and it was going to be a wonderful night.

* * *

By half past eleven her feet throbbed so badly she longed to take her shoes off and rub at her soles. She had barely left the dance floor since the band had started playing – letting Ray whirl her around the floor and sharing a few dances with the girls from the factory who had accompanied their own boyfriends. The mood had been light and even though she had stayed with soft drinks since the champagne debacle, she felt slightly drunk and as if she were floating. In fact, it was only the dull ache in her feet that reminded her she was very much in the here and now. She sat down, leaning against Ray as he softly kissed her head.

“My feet ache,” she mumbled. “You might have to carry me home at this rate.”

“Your feet can’t be sore – we’ve one last song to dance to. They promised me a slow one and I’m not leaving until I have led you around the floor one more time.”

She winced at the thought but, then again, a few minutes in his arms, she reckoned, would be worth the pain.

Ray took her hand in his and led her to the dance floor as the strains of “I Only Have Eyes For You” started to ring out. Turning her to face him, he pulled her into an embrace and wordlessly they started moving in time with the music. She rested her head on his shoulder, allowing herself to relax into him and in that moment she thought she never wanted to be anywhere else, again, ever, but in his arms.

“Don’t ever leave me,” she whispered into his neck as they danced. “Please don’t ever leave me.”

“I won’t,” he answered, kissing her head softly. “Always and forever yours, Stella. Always.”

She pulled away and looked up at him, saw that his eyes were moist, his face sincere, and she kissed him and they stood stock still amid the crowds moving around them. This was their perfect moment – sore feet and all – she would hold onto that moment over the years that followed.

* * *

It was Christmas Eve. Stella had been awake since gone seven. Kathleen Hegarty demanded certain standards of her house on Christmas morning so Christmas Eve was as hectic as it could be. By eleven, Stella had already run the bed linen through the mangle and had hung it on the clothes horse to dry. She had taken the rugs from the good room and out to the back garden and had beaten them to within an inch of their lives and now she was taking to the windows with vinegar and brown paper. Dolores was helping their younger brothers stick together paper chains to hang from the ceilings. Kathleen was busying herself plucking and preparing the turkey and peeling enough potatoes to feed a small army. There would be soup to be made, of course, and a ham to be boiled. And when the afternoon turned into evening Kathleen would set about baking her apple pies while Stella and Dolores made sure all the good clothes were dried and pressed for Mass in the morning. There wouldn’t be a spoon unpolished or an ornament not dusted and by the time they all retired, after going to the McGlincheys’ across the street for a small Christmas Eve drink and a mince pie, they would all near fall into their beds with exhaustion.

While it was a busy day, it was one Stella loved. She loved the routine, the tradition, the singing of carols. She loved nipping to the corner shop and greeting her neighbours with a ‘Merry Christmas’. She loved the smell of the clothes drying around the fire, the smell of the furniture wax, the cooking smells and how the house came alive. And she especially loved it when her daddy would come home from working at the docks, after stopping off for a seasonal stout on the way home, and hand each of them a ten-bob note. Even though she was twenty – a grown woman – she still loved to see her daddy come home on Christmas Eve: it was then that Christmas really began.

That particular Christmas Eve was a little different, however. She was distracted and while she carried out the chores that she was assigned she couldn’t help but feel her mind wander. Ray had told her he was to get a few hours off that afternoon from the Base and would be headed to their little love nest. She had told him, of course, that given the day that was in it, she was unlikely to be able to escape from the family but he had asked her to try. So now as she set about her chores and the usual Christmas Eve traditions, her mind was on her marine, alone in their flat, and she found it hard to find the same fervour for the preparations as she normally did.

When Kathleen asked her mid-afternoon to run to the shops for some yeast for the bread she nearly jumped with joy. If she was quick she could sneak to see him for even five minutes – a sneaky kiss – and be back home with no one being any the wiser. It was strange now – she seemed obsessed with him. When she wasn’t with him, all she could think about was how he spoke, how he smelled, how he felt, and she felt bereft at every second of not being able to drink him in. She was almost euphoric at the thought of being able to sneak out to be with him and she ran full pelt to her bedroom where she took off her pinny, brushed her hair through and applied a little lipstick.

“Dear God, woman, you’re only going to the shop – no need to tart yourself up!” Dolores had quipped as she walked into the room to see Stella spritz some perfume on her wrists and slip on her new coat.

“I don’t see anything wrong with making an effort,” Stella snapped, face blazing that Dolores had caught her.

“No, I suppose not,” Dolores sniffed, aggrieved at the tone in her sister’s voice. “It’s just not really like you. Can it be our ugly duckling is turning into a swan after all these years? Sure you’re always primping and preening yourself these days. It’s a wonder any one of us can get near the mirror. But then again, it’s usually when you are off to see Ray and you aren’t seeing him till tomorrow . . .” Her voice trailed off.

Stella’s blush rose again. Dolores could always see right through her and she was pretty sure her sister could see all that was going on in her mind right there and then.

“Will you promise not to tell?” she whispered as her sister moved closer. “I’m going to see him just for five minutes. I won’t be long. I just need to see him. Can you cover for me if Mammy asks
what’s keeping me so long? I’ll be as quick as I can. I promise.”

“Stella Hegarty, you sly fox. Imagine you, nipping out for a wee rendezvous! My God, woman, this all so very romantic!”

“It sure is,” Stella smiled back. “I’m in love, Dolores. I can’t help it, and I don’t care who knows.”

“Apart from Mammy obviously, who would knock your pan in if she knew you were heading out to see your fancy man when there is still brass to be tackled and wains to be washed.”

“I won’t be long, I promise,” Stella reassured her sister and, buttoning her coat, she slipped down the stairs and out of the front door with an extra spring in her step.