A Kiss and a Promise (50 page)

He was still standing in the middle of the bedroom, wondering what he should do next, when someone behind him coughed. Michael swung round, heart hammering, half expecting to see Mabel standing there, but it was Sean. His father cleared his throat and said apologetically: ‘I heard you come in through the back door like a whirlwind and I thought there must be something the matter, because you’re a thoughtful lad, Michael, always have been, and wouldn’t want to wake the family.’ He looked at the empty bed, the note in his son’s hand, and finally at Michael’s face. ‘So she’s gone, has she? Well, what did you expect, lad? Three times durin’ supper last night, you called Ginny “Stella” and three times young Mabel looked as if you’d hit her. Women need a feller to put into words what’s in his heart an’ I don’t believe you’ve said anything about how you feel to that poor young thing. But you telled Ginny, over and over, how like her mammy she was. Was that sensible, Michael? Was it kind?’

Michael felt his face grow hot. ‘But – but Stella’s been dead ten years,’ he muttered. ‘Oh, Daddy, she were a beautiful creature, and I loved her truly, but – but time has moved on, and so have I. Mabel’s intelligent, she knows her own mind and isn’t afraid to act on it, and she’s beautiful. I were thinkin’ last night that Stella was moonlight an’ Mabel sunshine, an’ that’s how I think of her: a warm, glowing, golden girl, the one person I want to spend the rest of my life with.’

‘Then tell her,’ Sean urged his son. ‘Tell her
now
, don’t let wrong feelings grow up between you, else you’ll lose her.’

‘But – but she’s gone,’ Michael mumbled. ‘She – she could be anywhere. And if it’s what she wants …’

Sean caught hold of his son by both shoulders and stared into his face. ‘If she means a t’ing to you, you’ll go after her this minute and tell her what you’ve just telled me. You’ve been afeared to say a word in case she rejected you, but now it’s sink or swim, and you’re no son of mine if you don’t make a push to put things right.’

Michael grinned shamefacedly down at the older man. ‘I’ll go at once; she can’t have got far,’ he said, striding towards the door. ‘Wish me luck, Daddy!’

He caught her up by the little stone bridge across the tumbling stream. As he hurried along, he had been rehearsing what he meant to say, but, in the event, he said almost nothing. She was walking head bent, shoulders drooping, but she must have heard his boots on the stony track and turned towards him. In the grey of the dawn light, her face was a pale blur, but when he reached her he could see the tears on her cheeks and somehow he knew there was little need of words. He gathered her into his arms and kissed her and kissed her, muttering disjointedly between kisses, until his mouth finally homed on to hers and they clung together, no longer needing any words at all. Explanations could come later, but for now the love between them simply blossomed as their mouths clung and their bodies seemed to fuse into one.

Presently, Michael sat down on the stone parapet of the bridge and pulled Mabel on to his lap. ‘Will you marry me, Mabs?’ he asked humbly. ‘I’ve loved you ever since I first set eyes on you, despite knowing that you thought me a pretty poor sort of fellow. I’ve been afraid to ask you in case you said no, and broke me heart into a million pieces, but when I found you gone I saw what a fool I’d been. Mabel? I swear I’ll be the best husband in the whole world, so I will.’

Mabel snuggled against him, tucking her head under his chin so that she could hide the tears of joy which had formed in her eyes. ‘Of course I’ll marry you, you great eejit,’ she said in a scolding voice. ‘Haven’t I been in love with you ever since we first met? That was why I was so cross with you, because I didn’t understand why even the sight of you made my tummy turn over. Oh, Michael, I’m so happy!’

Michael began to kiss her again and for some moments there was silence, save for their quickened breathing. Then Michael raised his head. ‘You can’t be any happier than me,’ he said contentedly, lifting her off his knee and standing up. He glanced around him, realising that the sun had risen whilst they kissed, bathing the countryside with gold. He took her hand in a firm clasp. ‘We’d best be gettin’ back, me little darlin’, before the family wakes up, and we’ll tell them the news at breakfast time.’

The two of them began to retrace their steps, whilst around them the birds shouted their greeting to the new day.

The week which followed their arrival at Headland Farm was a busy one – so busy, in fact, that no one had a chance to go down to the Puck Fair, though Michael admitted he was very interested to see the Kavanaghs for himself. But in his absence his parents and Declan had not quite managed to keep up with the work, so as soon as he returned he, Ginny and Mabel had thrown themselves into the tasks which awaited them. Because the weather had remained brilliant, they began to harvest their corn and everyone was busily occupied. And then, of course, there were wedding arrangements, for Mabel and Michael had decided to get married towards the end of September, when the harvest would be over and done and work would be less pressing.

Conan had not stayed for more than a couple of days, though the Gallaghers had pressed him to do so. He had no intention of visiting the Puck Fair since he had no desire to be questioned by the Kavanaghs as to Ginny’s whereabouts, but meant to attach himself to another tribe heading away from Killorglin. He intended to ask for his father but had taken the precaution of smearing his own light brown hair with Ginny’s black dye and planned to tell the new tinker tribe that his name was Declan Delaney and Eamonn O’Dowd was his uncle, and by this means to find his father without any risk of the Kavanaghs’ beginning to suspect that he was not dead after all.

Before a wedding there is always a great deal of work to do and in this case, since Mabel and Michael were to marry in Ireland, Mr and Mrs Derbyshire were going to come and stay at Headland Farm, arriving two days before the ceremony and leaving two days after. Ginny and Mabel were already sharing a bedroom but they intended to vacate it for the Derbyshires and to move into Michael’s room whilst he had a shakedown on the sofa in the kitchen once more. The wedding breakfast would be provided by Maeve, though the Derbyshires insisted that they should pay for all the ingredients and Mrs Derbyshire had promised to do a great deal of the baking herself, once they arrived at Headland Farm.

‘I wish we had been able to go to the Puck Fair,’ Mabel said dreamily, a couple of evenings after the fair had closed. The whole family were sitting in the kitchen; Michael reading a newspaper, Sean smoking his pipe and fondling Floss’s ears, whilst Maeve and Mabel knitted socks for their menfolk, and Ginny sat cross-legged on the floor, industriously stitching away at a tray cloth which she meant to give Mabel as a wedding present.

At Mabel’s words, Michael lowered his newspaper and smiled across at her. ‘Don’t fret, alanna, you’ll probably attend every Puck Fair for the next twenty years,’ he reminded her gently. ‘Why, with the way the farm’s expanding you might even sell honey from your own bees and fresh vegetables from your own garden, to say nothing of bunches of herbs and cheeses from your dairy.’

‘What about my career?’ Mabel said, trying to sound indignant. ‘I thought we’d agreed that when a job came vacant in Killorglin School I was to ask for an interview. Don’t you go forgetting I’m a professional teacher, Michael Gallagher!’

Michael, who was bare-headed, pretended to doff an imaginary cap, saying in a squeaky voice as he did so: ‘Sorry, miss, sorry, miss, I didn’t mean to offend your teachership.’ He dropped his voice to his normal level. ‘But what’s to stop you doin’ both, Miss High and Mighty? I’m sure a girl as clever – and beautiful – as you could do both jobs wit’out blinkin’ an eyelid. Why, only the other day …’

Outside, Skipper began to bark, and Floss raised her head and growled just as someone knocked at the back door. ‘I wonder who’s that,’ Maeve said, laying her knitting in her lap. ‘Shall I go, Sean?’

Sean began to reply but Michael shook his head and got up. ‘No need, Mammy. I asked Mr Farrell to come round this evenin’ ’cos he’s t’inkin’ of sellin’ his bay pony. I expect this’ll be him.’

He went to the door, then slipped out into the yard, closing the door behind him. Mabel heard the low murmur of voices and glanced across at Ginny, her eyebrows rising. Who on earth could it be? If it had been Mr Farrell, or any other neighbour, he would have been asked in at once, so it had to be a stranger, and not a particularly welcome one at that, for Mabel already knew that Irish hospitality would not let even a stranger remain outside the house for long.

She turned an enquiring face to Maeve, who could only shake her head, clearly as perplexed as she, but just when Mabel was about to take a peep through the window the back door opened again and Michael came into the room. He was ushering before him a very dark-haired man of medium height, with over-long greasy hair hanging down to his shoulders.

Mabel stared at him for a long moment, thinking there was something familiar about him, but before she could say a word, Michael spoke. His voice was silky sweet but Mabel could hear amusement behind the gravity of his tone. ‘This here is a friend of our’n what wrote us a letter some while back,’ he said gravely. ‘I don’t know his name, because he signed his letter with an X, but I believe it’s probably Kavanagh.’ He turned to the stranger, beginning to grin. ‘That’s right, isn’t it, Mr Kavanagh?’ The stranger nodded and Michael continued. ‘Mr Kavanagh has come all the way to Kerry to bring my daughter, Ginny, home,’ he said impressively.’ As he said in his letter, he’s asking a hundred pounds for her safe return as well as a couple of our best horses.’ He turned once more to the stranger. ‘Would you prefer a mare with a foal at heel or a mare and a stallion?’ he asked the uninvited guest. ‘I want to be quite sure just what you think me daughter’s worth.’

The man’s crafty little eyes swivelled anxiously around the room and flickered over Ginny without a sign of recognition. It was plain, Mabel thought, that the child’s midnight black locks had completely fooled the tinker and she could see that he was puzzled by the fact that every face now wore a smile.

‘Well?’ Michael said the word gently, caressingly almost, but the tinker was too wily a bird not to recognise danger when he heard it.

‘Oh sure and the girl’s a wonderful wee worker, so she is; we’ll not want to part wit’ her but we know what’s right and she
is
your daughter,’ he said, in a whining, sing-song voice. ‘To show good faith, we’ll say not’in’ about the horses, but if you’ll give me the hundred pounds, I’ll go back to me people an’ she’ll be knockin’ on your door within the hour.’

Mabel could see Ginny was giggling now, a hand clasped over her mouth to stop her laughter escaping. The child jumped to her feet and ran over to the back door, gave the panel a couple of sharp raps and then turned, grinning, to the astonished tinker.

‘Why, if she isn’t here already!’ she exclaimed. ‘It’s clear enough you didn’t recognise
me
, Abe Kavanagh, but I’d know you anywhere. So clear off afore we call the scuffers … Gardai, I mean!’

The man gasped as comprehension dawned, and turned to flee. Michael reached for him and actually grabbed his shoulder, but the tinker was quick as an eel and as slippery. He twisted out of Michael’s grasp, dodged round Ginny and was out of the door and pounding down the path in a moment, whilst the family roared with laughter and Michael shouted after him that if he ever came near Headland Farm again, he’d find himself chucked into prison and left there for a hundred years.

‘Ain’t he the foxiest thing, though?’ Ginny said; Mabel thought she sounded half-admiring, half-shocked. ‘He thought I’d been drownded, but he still tried to gerra ransom out of me daddy! If that ain’t tinkers all over.’

Michael put an arm round her shoulders and the other round Mabel’s waist. The three of them stood, crammed in the doorway, watching the tinker’s figure grow gradually smaller as he sped away down the lane, over the small stone bridge and out of sight.

‘Well, there’s one good t’ing. The word will get around that we found the Kavanaghs out in a cheat and likely we won’t see them in these parts for the next twenty years,’ Michael said philosophically. ‘If there’s one t’ing all tinkers hate, it’s bein’ laughed at, and when this story gets around there’ll be plenty who’ll mock at the Kavanaghs.’

He turned back indoors, taking his womenfolk with him, and Mabel took her seat again with a sigh of contentment. ‘It’s all over at last, and we’re all safe,’ she remarked, picking up her knitting once more. ‘But the cheek of the fellow. I wonder whether he would have tried to palm off one of their own kids as the missing Ginny … I dare say he knew you’d not know her?’

Michael began to reply but Maeve, getting up to pull the kettle over the fire, interrupted him. ‘Blood’s thicker’n water, alanna,’ she said. ‘Me son would ha’ known. Let’s just be thankful we’ve seen the last o’ the tinkers! And now who’s for a nice cup o’ tea?’