A Mother's Spirit (20 page)

‘No,’ Gloria said firmly.

Joe shrugged. ‘I had better say OK then,’ he said with a ghost of a smile.

‘Yes,’ Gloria said. ‘You had best had. Now come on, let’s get going.’

Ben knew that he had been on a boat before. His mother had showed him America where he had been born and the big expanse of sea they had crossed called the Atlantic Ocean to reach London, but he had only been four at the time, little more than a baby and only had vague memories of it. This time the sea they had to cross was called the Irish Channel and his dad said as it was only a small stretch of water the boat wouldn’t be so big, nor the journey so long.

Ben was pretty impressed just the same. The boat was the
Ulster Prince
, it had three black funnels and it looked massive. Ben felt his stomach turn over at the exhilarating thought that he was actually going to get on board and sail away.

‘Isn’t it just grand, Dad?’ he said, as they stood on the deck together and looked out over the rails to the grey scummy water lapping the sides of the boat and then to the activity on the dockside.

Joe smiled. ‘It is, son. Another new chapter of our lives is opening up.’

‘I am dying to meet Uncle Tom.’

‘You will like Tom,’ Joe said confidently. ‘You’d be hard to please if you didn’t like Tom, mind you, for he is a grand man altogether, and I am looking forward to seeing him again myself.’

And then the engines throbbed into life, black smoke billowed out of the funnels, and there was a sudden screech from the hooter, so loud and strident that Ben had his fingers in his ears. Then the boat moved ever so slightly and they were on their way.

Ben was tired by the time the train was pulling into Derry station. He just wanted the journey to be over. Joe wanted that too, because he was feeling very jaded and sore. He got up and stood in the corridor as the train began to slow down.

As the platform came into view he said with relief, ‘There’s Tom waiting for us.’

At this Ben got up to join his father, anxious to catch sight of this uncle who had been so kind to him. Gloria too wanted to see the man she had got to know through the many letters exchanged while Joe had been in hospital.

She saw that Tom was still a handsome man with a fine head of hair. Once it had been a vibrant brown, though it was now liberally laced with grey, as was Joe’s. Like Joe he was of medium height and had cheery ruddy cheeks, from life in the open air, she guessed. When he spotted them his whole face broke into a beam of happiness and Gloria felt herself relax.

The train drew to a halt and the family began to alight as Tom hurried across the platform to meet them. He thought he had never seen anyone as thin as his brother. Joe had never carried excess weight, but now he was positively gaunt, and holding himself stiffly as if every movement was painful, and his eyes were slightly glazed.

Tom’s heart turned over in pity for the discomfort Joe was so obviously in, but he wiped this from his face as he bid him welcome, because Joe had always hated people feeling sorry for him. Then he turned to welcome Gloria, whom he felt he knew from her letters, and realised that she was as beautiful as Joe always claimed she was, with her blonde
hair, flawless skin, high cheekbones and those vivid violet eyes.

Tom put his arms around her. ‘Welcome to Ireland, my dear,’ he said.

‘Thank you, Tom,’ Gloria said. ‘I am so glad to meet you at last and I know this is the right place for Joe just now.’

‘It is indeed,’ Tom said. ‘We’ll have him as right as rain in no time at all. What do you say, Ben?’ he said, turning to the boy, who was the image of his mother.

Ben looked at this man, his uncle who spoke in such a slow and easy way and had really kind-looking eyes, and despite his weariness he felt safe and secure in a way he hadn’t done for ages. ‘That’s what Dad thinks as well,’ he said, remembering his father’s words in the hospital.

‘Well, then,’ said Tom, ‘let’s get you up in the cart and we’ll have you home in no time at all.’

As they walked towards the cart, Joe gave a laugh and said sardonically, ‘I hardly think so, with this horse.’

‘Not five minutes in the country and you’re complaining about the horse already,’ Tom grumbled. ‘I told you before and I will tell you again, there is nothing wrong with this horse.’

Ben didn’t think there was much wrong with it either. ‘That horse is like the ones in London that pulled the beer barrels and the coal!’ he exclaimed, and said to his father, ‘You said you had a horse with the shaggy feet on the farm here.’

‘Ah, yes,’ Joe said, as he helped his wife and son up into the cart. ‘But what else did I say? Do you remember that?’

Ben shook his head, ‘I don’t think so.’

‘I said those type of horses are built for strength not speed. Tom’s claim that he would get us home in no time is not a strictly truthful one.’

Gloria shot a glance at them, alarmed that they had begun to argue within minutes of meeting, but she soon saw that it was all play-acting, ongoing banter between the brothers.

‘Well, it will be a damned sight quicker and more comfortable than walking,’ Tom said. ‘So stop your blether and get up beside your wife.’

‘I’m riding with you,’ Joe said.

‘You would be more comfortable in the cart,’ Tom told him. ‘I have cushion and blankets ready for you.

Joe said nothing but just stared at Tom with an almost challenging look in his eyes. When Tom’s eyes met Gloria’s, she gave a slight shrug that said quite clearly that he was wasting his time, that once Joe had decided on something that was that.

‘Please yourself then,’ Tom said, getting up behind the horse and pretending not to notice the grimace of pain that Joe made when he hauled himself up and the cautious way he sank onto the seat beside his brother.

As the horse plodded steadfastly down the road, Joe began pointing things out to Gloria and Ben. Gloria saw how important it was for him to bring his wife and son back to his birthplace, especially as Ben loved everything he saw. Raised in London streets, he was amazed at so much greenness and space. He admired the sheep that dotted the hillside, and the little white cottages they passed. They each had a plume of smoke rising from the chimneys, and Ben asked what it was.

‘When you have a fire in the grate, the smoke comes out the chimney,’ Joe said.

‘Why would anyone have a fire today?’ Ben asked. ‘It’s boiling.’

‘I know, but you see most people here cook on the fire.’

‘Oh boy, do they really?’ To Ben that seemed the most amazing fun.

Tom and Joe laughed, and Tom answered, ‘Aye, and to tell you the truth it is not always the most convenient thing. On a day like today, for example, you are sweltered indoors and so the door has to be left open, and if you’re not careful the chickens from the yard will find their way in too.’

Gloria thought chickens running around a kitchen disgusting, but Ben thought it sounded magical. ‘You have chickens?’ he said.

‘Yes, Ben,’ Tom said. ‘We have many chickens. In fact, it will probably be one of your jobs to collect the eggs each morning.’

‘Oh boy!’ Ben cried. ‘Eggs as well?’

‘They come from chickens,’ Tom said. ‘Didn’t you know that?’

Ben shook his head. ‘I don’t know much at all about eggs.’

‘Small wonder,’ Gloria put in. ‘Eggs don’t feature much in a wartime British diet. Each person is supposed to have one egg a fortnight, and we are lucky if we see one egg a month.’

‘That’s dreadful.’

‘God, Tom,’ Joe said, ‘in the end, with the blackout and the bombing and all, the food or lack of it was the least of our problems.’

‘The Americans brought dried egg powder with them,’ Gloria said. ‘It started appearing in the shops just as we left and I suppose that might help the situation a bit.’

‘Well, there’re plenty of eggs here,’ Tom said. ‘And we have cows too for the milk. Have you ever seen a cow, Ben?’

‘Yeah, from the train,’ Ben said. I’ve never seen one close up. I went to a zoo once with Mum, but they didn’t have any cows.’

‘Well, do you know cows give the milk you drink?’

‘Yeah,’ Ben said. ‘Dad told me. I thought that he was joking at first.’

‘Oh, it’s no joke, believe me,’ Tom said. ‘Cows have to be milked twice a day every day, even at Christmas.’

‘Golly.’

Tom was tickled with Ben’s enthusiasm. ‘I’ll show you how it’s done, if you like; let you have a go.’

‘Oh, you bet,’ Ben cried.

‘You mustn’t get under your uncle’s feet,’ Gloria said. ‘I am sure that he is a very busy man.’

‘Not too busy to take my nephew around and show him things, though,’ Tom said. ‘It’s bound to be strange to him.’ And then, as they passed fields of ripening hay, he went on to Joe, ‘We’ll have a grand year for the harvest as long as the weather doesn’t break.’

‘No sign of it so far anyway,’ Joe said. ‘And I will be fit enough by then to give you a hand.’

‘Why make promises you might not be able to keep, Joe?’ Gloria chided. ‘How d’you know that you will be recovered enough to help at the harvest? For goodness’ sake, don’t try to run before you can walk.’

‘I will help you, Uncle Tom,’ Ben said, ‘if you show me what you want done. And I will have plenty of time because Mum says I will not be going to school until September and that is ages and ages away.’

‘Think you will be able for it?’ Joe asked him with a twinkle in his eye, and when Ben answered firmly, ‘You bet I will be,’ the two men laughed uproariously and laughed even harder when Ben asked, ‘What is harvest, anyway?’

Gloria actually was feeling quite panicky and this seemed to increase with every step the horse took. She felt she had left civilisation way behind in Derry, and she had a genuine horror of being buried in the country.

‘How far away is Buncrana from the farm?’ she asked Tom.

‘About two and a half miles by road,’ he said. ‘Slightly less if you go over the fields.’

God Almighty! Gloria thought. Two and a half miles up hill and down dale to buy a loaf of bread. But then, she told herself they probably didn’t buy bread, they made it, and as they were living here she would probably have to learn to make it too. And cook it over the open fire, what was more. God Almighty, what had she come to?

‘All right?’ Joe said, glancing back and seeing the look on Gloria’s face.

Gloria knew she couldn’t say what was really on her mind. She had made the only decision she could have done for Joe’s sake. What was the point of whining about it now? And so she said, ‘I’m fine. It is certainly very beautiful and I am sure that I will soon settle down.’

‘That’s my girl,’ Joe said proudly. But he was well aware that Gloria was just putting on a brave face, and she hadn’t met his mother yet.

‘How does Mammy feel about us just landing on her like this? he asked Joe quietly.

There flashed into Tom’s mind the scene when he told her that Joe and Gloria and Ben were coming to live with them in order that Joe recovered totally from his injuries. She had been furious but he had stood firm and reminded her that it was his decision to make, not hers, that the farm belonged to him and she had better remember that.

‘Mammy came round to it in the end,’ he said.

‘Tom, you are talking to me, your brother,’ Joe said. ‘Mammy never comes round about anything.’

‘Why ask the road you know then?’ Tom said. ‘She is bad as she always was. She’ll never change and I suppose it’s best you are prepared for that.’

When the cart drew up in the cobbled yard just a few minutes later, Gloria was appalled by the place, but Ben was enchanted. He thought the cottage was like a pretend house, for it was like no house he had ever seen before. It was a squat, low building that didn’t look big enough to live in, and it was painted white and had yellow straw stuff for a roof and a door that he saw opened in two pieces.

Chickens roamed freely about the cobbled yard, pecking constantly, two dogs ran barking from the barn, and lots of cows looked over the fence of a nearby field and lowed gently.

‘Past time for milking and they are letting me know about
it,’ Tom said with a smile as he leaped from the cart and lifted the case and bag as if they weighed nothing at all. ‘Come away in.’

Gloria was surprised that Joe’s mother hadn’t appeared to greet them, though Joe had warned her that she was one on her own and didn’t operate under the same rules as the rest of society.

‘Mammy,’ Tom called as he entered the cottage, ‘they’re here.’

‘D’you think that I am deaf and blind, or what?’ Biddy growled out from her position by the fire. She didn’t get to her feet, not then and not even when Joe followed his brother and stood framed in the doorway side by side with Gloria with Ben in front of them.

Gloria peered through the gloom. She hadn’t realised that the room would be so dim, and she saw the light came from one small window at the far end.

However, she could see the old woman sitting in the chair glaring about her as if she hated the whole world and everything and everyone in it. She ignored Gloria and Ben, and spoke only to Joe.

‘So, you have decided to come home at long last?’

Even forewarned, Joe was appalled at his mother’s rudeness in not even acknowledging Gloria and Ben, let alone welcoming them. He walked to stand in front of his mother and spoke stiffly. ‘As you see, Mammy, the prodigal returns. When that happened before, didn’t they kill the fatted calf?’ He looked pointedly towards the grate where the fire was almost out and there wasn’t even a pot of water hung over it to boil up.

Tom followed his gaze. ‘Dear, dear,’ he said, crossing to the hearth. He poked more life into the dying embers and threw some pieces of peat onto it. ‘I’ll make you a cup of tea for now,’ he said, filling the kettle with some of the water in the bucket by the door, ‘and we will have some proper food when I have finished the milking. Is that all right for you?’

‘That’s fine, Tom,’ Joe said.

But his mother snapped, ‘Just tea, d’you see? No fatted calf for the likes of you, who only came home because there was no other place he could go to.’