The First Time I Said Goodbye (32 page)

The fact is, I was using you, and I’ll understand
if you hate me. But at least I am telling you now. Telling you before we make the mistake of getting married and being lumbered with each other. That girl next door is probably still available, Ray – and she will love you because you are truly loveable. But when push comes to shove, I just can’t lie any more. I want to stay here – to find my true love. To be with someone who means something to me.

I’m sorry to have lied to you. You deserve better and with God’s grace you will find it.

Forgive me. I never meant to hurt you.

Sincerely,

Stella

She sat back and read the words again – hoped they sounded as harsh as she had planned. Each one had hurt her as much as they would hurt Ray but she needed to let him know that it was done – that her place was in Derry – that they had no future together. She would post the letter without telling anyone. If her mother asked, she would say it was she who received a Dear John letter and that she was sad, but happy to stay. She would put the whole thing down, if anyone asked, to a moment of madness. Tell them she had been carried away by the romance the twinkly-eyed stranger from America had offered her.

Folding the letter and putting it in the envelope, she sealed it, wrote his address and slipped it into her coat pocket to post the following morning.

Then she raked the fire one last time for the night, knocking the fading ashes out of the grate and into the pan. She put up the fireguard, switched off the lights and climbed the stairs to bed. She peeked at her mother, lying unmoving in her bed – still on her own side with her hand reached over to where Ernest used to lie. In the darkness Stella could not tell if she was asleep or just lying there, awake and silent, as she did so often these days.

Stella pulled the door closed and went to the bathroom as she did every night and brushed her teeth. Then she went into her bedroom, closed the curtains and undressed before brushing her hair and climbing into bed and pulling the covers over her.

It was then, and only then, that she finally gave in to the tears which had eluded her for the last few weeks. Her pain was such she was sure it was physical – she wondered if her heart was about to give out and, though she was only twenty, she was destined to follow her father into the grave. She cried then until her throat was sore, her eyes dry and her pillow soaked and until she could do nothing but give in to sleep.

When she woke in the morning, she knew that finally things had changed – and they would never be the same. And she knew the pain she had felt the night before was the breaking of her own heart. Only she was still breathing, just – and there was porridge to be made and children to be got out to school and a house to be run. That was simply how it was meant to be.

Chapter 28

I should have trusted you to tell you the truth. But I thought I was doing the right thing. I was a fool, Ray. A silly fool and I will never forgive myself, nor should you. But still I hope you will.

* * *

Derry, June 2010

“I had to make him believe there was no chance. And more than that I had to make him hate me,” my mother said, her eyes watering. “It was the only way. I know that sounds silly, but I knew he would have given everything up for me – but it wasn’t the life we had planned. I couldn’t ask him to do that for me. I couldn’t ask him to move away from his family, from his prospects, from the life we had planned, to come here and take on responsibility for the Hegarty clan. There were no jobs. No prospects. I couldn’t bring him back here to nothing.”

“But Dolores? And Uncle Peter and Uncle James? Would they not, could they not have stepped in?”

My mother shrugged her shoulders. “I didn’t feel they could at the time. With the benefit of a life of experience I’ve often wondered if I was too soft on the lot of them – but that’s hindsight. I know that at the time I was being told I was the sensible one – that my mammy needed me. And she did. She cut a pathetic picture in those days, Stella. She was lost without him.” A tear slid down her face. “She had it tough when you think of it, with a young family to mind and no money coming in. I was lucky to have your father as long as I did. I was lucky in a lot of ways. I’m not saying I’m any great hero because I’ve got out of my bed every day since your father died, but it was different for my mother. She was a strong woman – please don’t think she was anything other than that – but in those early weeks and months I think her heart was just so clean broken she couldn’t function at all. We didn’t talk about depression or the like in those days – not really. Everyone had it tough and everyone just got on with it or hid it behind closed doors. She did try but it was hard on her. Very hard.”

“But it was hard on you too,” I said, as softly as I could.

She smiled weakly. “Yes. We were a great pair, two broken hearts under the one roof. Great
craic
we were in those days – I think we near drove each other mad.”

“But did no one ask? Did no one press you to go to America? Did Ray not write back?”

She shook her head. “I never heard from him again. I couldn’t blame him. What did I expect? I told him I had lied, that I didn’t really love him and that I had been using him. There was no response to that, was there? All I heard, eventually, was formal notification my visa request had been turned down. I imagine that was down to him but he never approached me again.

And as for people asking? There were some whispers. The factory girls of course. That supervisor of mine had a laugh to herself. She enjoyed the old ‘I told you so’ for quite some time. With my mother, I just told her that it had ended. She either didn’t have the strength to ask more or was afraid of what I might say. The older boys were delighted that someone else would continue to put food on the table for them, but to be fair to them they upped their game when it came to looking for work. And Dolores?” At this my mother dropped her voice to a whisper. “Well, she quickly became too concerned planning her wedding to Uncle Hugh to worry about me. I think she knew not to push me too far for a response. She might not have liked what she was going to hear. The only person who ever knew the truth was Molly Davidson – strange, isn’t it? The pair of us became confidantes of sorts. A miserable pair we were too, for a while.” My mother snorted. “Nursing our broken hearts together. She walked me into the factory every day in those early weeks. She said it was sad how things don’t always work how you would have planned and I suppose she should have known. I’ve often wondered how she is now. How she got on. I must look her up while I’m here.”

With that my mother closed the photo album and stood up.

“You know, I think it’s time for a cup of tea. I’m parched. Have you noticed, Annabel, how the tea is so much nicer here? After I moved to the States I used to get your granny to send me little care packages – always a box of tea and some biscuits. The biscuits rarely arrived in one piece but I would stretch out that box of tea as long as I could – one cup of decent tea a day would make the box last for ages. And then I would get her to send me another box.”

I followed her into the kitchen, trying to imagine how it used to be. She put the kettle on and stared out into the back yard. “God, it seems like a lifetime ago,” she muttered as the kettle boiled and fizzed. “It was another world. Not the worst, but different.”

I thought of how her life had turned on its head and wondered for a moment how she could think it was not the worst? And then once again I reminded myself just how lucky I was – bereavement and relationship breakdown aside. At least I had made the decision freely to walk away from Craig – even if I hadn’t made it sooner. At least I had choices where my mother had felt she had none.

“Do you not feel bitter about it? Angry even?”

“I did,” she said, dropping two tea bags in the teapot and pouring boiling water on top.

She moved around the kitchen effortlessly, taking cups from the cupboards, milk from the fridge. It may have been someone else’s home now – it may have been far removed from what it was when she was younger, but she clearly still felt a sense of belonging here.

“I mean,” she continued, “not at the time. Not when it was happening. I didn’t feel angry or bitter. I just felt desperately sad for a long time. And then, I suppose when I went to America and it didn’t work out, I felt angry for a while. I felt it had all been such a terrible, terrible waste and I felt angry then. It just felt unfair. I’d watched enough movies and read enough books to believe that people should get their happy endings and I really thought I would get mine. So when I eventually went to the States – when I went to find him – that was when I got angry and bitter. And I’m not proud, Annabel. I wasn’t a very nice person for a while. I was horribly unhappy and I closed myself off from everyone. Those days were darker than the days after your grandfather died and it was only when I met your daddy that I came out of them.”

She poured the tea and handed me a cup.

“He saved me, you know. Your daddy. He brought me back to life.”

“Was he never worried about you and Ray?” I knew it was an awkward question to ask but still I had to ask it. If you loved someone so much, surely a part of your heart would always remain with them? Sure weren’t we back in Derry now looking him up – planning to go to a Naval Base Reunion, trying to close some circles?

My mother shook her head. “There was nothing to be worried about. Of course I always felt like there was unfinished business between us – even though I knew I never deserved a reply. I always wanted to tell him the truth – that I had indeed loved him, that I had not lied and that he had not given his heart to someone who was just using him. I suppose I wanted to make my peace with him. I never dreamed this was how it would work out. That your father would be dead – that we would be here. I suppose I never really thought about how it would work out at all. Like so much in my life, I have just found myself here.”

“So you went to America to find him? What happened?”

My mother sat at the kitchen table and poured milk for both of us.

“Well, it started with the letters. I suppose that was about a year and a half after your grandfather died.”

Chapter 29

I have no right to get in touch after this time. No right at all.

* * *

Derry, July 1961

Dolores stood in their bedroom and turned around, trying to catch as best she could a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the dresser.

“Stand at peace,” Stella urged, laughing.

“I’m just trying to see if I’m beautiful,” Dolores said, her face flushed.

“Of course you are, but if you don’t stand at peace I’ll end up sticking one of these flowers in your eye or your ear – or your mouth to keep you quiet!” Stella teased.

Dolores stuck her tongue out then laughed, looking all of twelve years old, and Stella wondered for a moment how on earth they had reached their adult years when it seemed like only yesterday they were sharing secrets beneath their blankets and hoping that neither Ernest nor Kathleen would hear them talking when they were supposed to be asleep.

“You can’t be mean to me today, sister dear. It’s my wedding day – the one day in my whole life when you all have to be extra nice and treat me like a queen.”

“Well, Queen Dolores, I’m pretty sure even Her Majesty herself sat still when they were putting the crown on her head so she didn’t get a jewel in her eye – so can you be at peace till we finish with these flowers and this veil? Mammy will be in to see you in a minute and don’t you want to be as near as done by then?”

Dolores stood at peace, apart from the fidgeting of her hands, while Stella pinned the last carnation on her head and slipped on her veil.

Stella could not deny it – her sister made a beautiful bride and it was heart-warming to see some happiness brought back into their family at long last. It had been a long, tough eighteen months but the last week or so, with the arrival of some glorious sunshine and the promise of a grand day at Dolores and Hugh’s wedding, had lifted everyone’s spirits. Even Kathleen had come round to herself and, apart from a few quiet moments and a few tears shed for absent friends, she had thrown herself into the wedding preparations with an energy Stella had been delighted to see.

“You look grand, a real beauty,” Stella said, standing back to take in her sister in all her glory. In a simple, knee-length dress with her short veil, she looked so very fashionable and chic. Her simple bouquet of carnations, roses and baby’s breath sat waiting for her but the most beautiful thing of all about her was the almost beatific smile on her face.

“I’m a very lucky girl,” she grinned.

“You are, pet,” Stella smiled, as she slipped on the dress she had bought with her Christmas money from Ray to act the part of the bridesmaid. She felt strange putting it on – it was somehow tainted now – but she didn’t want to show Dolores up by wearing just any old thing and it was the nicest thing she had in her wardrobe. She got her sister to help zip it up and stood back to try and look at herself in the mirror. She didn’t want to look too closely though – not wanting to be reminded of that magical night in the City Hotel. The dress felt looser, she noted. She had definitely been eating less and she reminded herself she needed to make sure she kept well – she had a lot of responsibilities after all, although in recent weeks both older boys had found fairly regular work and she hadn’t had to push them too hard to put money into the house. Dolores was set to move out after the wedding – having secured a small flat with Hugh – and while that would mean they were down her contribution, it also meant there would be one less mouth to feed. Kathleen had even taken on some light sewing work and, while Stella had told her she worked hard enough and didn’t need to go to any extra effort, she had assured her daughter she actually enjoyed it and enjoyed getting out and about to meet more people.