Aisling Gayle (17 page)

If Pauline was vain or confident enough to register it, she would have noticed that they were easily the best-looking girls in the dance hall – regardless of the fact that she was nearer to thirty than twenty.

“Will we take to the floor?”

Pauline looked up to see Jack Byrne leaning over the table – once again. She had already had a spell on the floor with him earlier on, and she hadn’t expected him back quite so quickly.

“Grand,” she said, giving him a little smile. She didn’t look to see what sort of expression was on Rose’s face. She got up on her feet, and then took his outstretched hand and let him lead her onto the well-polished dance floor.

There was a faint smell of cologne off him. A very nice smell. The sort of cologne that Oliver Gayle wore. And that was exactly what attracted Pauline to him. He was a similar type to her brother-in-law. On the few occasions that he had spoken to her, Jack Byrne had not minced his words.

“Well?” he said, as he guided her in a slow waltz. “What’s the story? Am I driving you back home or not?”

“I already told you,” Pauline said, smiling fliratiously, “that I came with my friend – and it’s only right that I go home with her again.”

“And what,” he said, moving his mouth close to her ear, “if your friend was to find better company to travel home with herself?”

When he swung her round, Pauline had a clear view of the table, and she could see a fellow sitting down at the table beside Rose. And as she watched, his arm had came round to circle her shoulder – and Rose wasn’t shrugging him away either.

“Well?” Jack Byrne whispered again, knowing what was going through his dancing partner’s mind. His hand tightened on her waist.

“I’ll have to see . . .” Pauline murmured. “I’ll have to talk to Rose.” She eased out of his hold a little. “Sure, I hardly know you,” she said now. “I’m not the sort of girl that goes off with strangers.”

“And I,” he said, “wouldn’t be asking you if you were. We danced together and chatted the last time you were here, didn’t we?”

“But I know nothing about you,” Pauline persisted. “You could be married with half a dozen kids for all I know.”

“Well,” Jack Byrne said, pulling her closer again, “we’ll have to do something to sort that out then – won’t we?”

Chapter 14

“Look, it suits us both,” Rose Quinn said to Pauline, as they checked their hair, their clothes, and their make-up, in the full-length mirror in the ladies’ lavatory.

“I’m not really sure . . .” Pauline said slowly, turning round to check that her petticoat wasn’t hanging down below her dress.

Rose added another layer of orangey-lipstick, going heavier on her thin top lip to give it more of a pout. Then Pauline came to stand alongside her, adding another pink layer of lipstick to her fuller, more sculpted lips.

“All we have to do,” Rose said, “is stick to the same story. Just make sure that my mother and father think I drove you home, dropped you off, and came home myself.” She pressed her lips together, then checked that none of the lipstick had strayed on to her teeth. “It’s as easy as that.”

Pauline put her lipstick back in her little make-up purse. “I don’t know . . .”

Rose sighed impatiently. “What’s the problem?” she said into the mirror, as she lifted a blonde curl back into place. “Jack Byrne’s a good catch. He has his own car, hasn’t he? He must be decent if he has his own car.” She turned to face Pauline. “This could be your big chance, you know . . . he’s a fine-looking fella.”

Pauline bit her lip. “Do you like that McCarthy lad?”

Rose fluffed up the back of her hair. “He’s not bad,” she said, grinning, “and he’s a great dancer . . . considering he has a fair few drinks on him. D’you know he had the cheek to come in with a half-bottle of whiskey in his inside pocket? He’s been taking swigs from it all night.”

Pauline rolled her eyes as though she found the drunken McCarthy fellow funny. She didn’t want to upset Rose . . . but she wasn’t interested in lads that got drunk and made fools of themselves. And she still wasn’t sure about going off in the car with Jack Byrne. For one thing, she didn’t know whether he was married or not. He was one of these fellows that people didn’t know much about. Any of the girls they knew at the dance all said what a fine-looking fellow he was, and a more than passable dancer – but, when Pauline quizzed them further, that was about all they knew about him.

“What if we all just go for a walk?” Pauline suggested. “Or t
he four of us could sit in the car and chat for a while . . .”

Rose opened her mouth in shock. “For God’s sake, Pauline,” she hissed, “you’re acting as though Jack Byrne’s the feckin’
Boston Strangler
, or something! You’re a right kill-
joy tonight.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “What’s wrong?
I mean, it’s not as if you’re exactly shy with men, is it?”

Pauline shrugged, ignoring her friend’s jibe. “Nothing’s wrong
. . . I’m just not sure if I want to sit in the car all the way to Tullamore with somebody I hardly know.”

“Grand!” said Rose, her eyebrows shooting up. “You can sit in the back of the car so, while I drive Jim McCarthy home to Kilbeggan.” Her chin jutted out defensively. “He’s let the other lads he came with go off in the van. If I don’t take him now, he’ll be left thumbing it home.”

Pauline took a deep breath, and forced herself to say not
hing. Surely Rose would see how unreasonably she was
behaving, when she took a few minutes in the cool, night air to think about it?

Rose did exactly the same as Pauline. She took an audibly deep breath, and then she rummaged in her handbag for a pack of Wrigley’s chewing-gum. She made a great performance of unwrapping a stick of gum without offering Pauline any.

Then, both girls buttoned up their cardigans, pulled their white wrist-length gloves on and walked back into the dance-hall in silence, arms folded defensively over their handbags.

Pauline was silently seething and vowing that she would never – ever – go for a night out with Rose Quinn again.
How could she have been so stupid as to depend on somebody
like Rose? She had thought she knew her well enough by now. She
presumed that her friend had more pride in herself than to go off with some drunken, leering young fellow, that looked as though he had hardly left school.

Then, Pauline felt a light touch on her arm – and when she turned around, she was looking up into Jack Byrne’s smiling face.

“Well?” he said softly. “Am I allowed to see you home?”

Pauline took a deep breath. Whatever reservations she had about him earlier had now diminished. Being driven home by this friendly, handsome fellow suddenly seemed a far better option than playing gooseberry in the back of the car to Rose and her jarred, schoolboy escort.

At least Jack Byrne was sober, and he was older and more reliable-looking than any of the other men in the place. What harm could it do to take a lift off him?

There were plenty of girls who went out dancing every week, and went off on the bars of bicycles with fellas they’d only met. And there were others who had no qualms about going around the back of buildings or into fields with fellas.

But Pauline Kearney wasn’t like those other girls.

She might have a child without the benefit of a husband or a wedding ring, but she was not –
and never had been
– the type of girl that was easy with men.

She had only been with the one man in her life, and tragically, it had gone all wrong. A night when she was upset and drank too much, and let the wrong man comfort her. Although, in another time and in another place, he could have easily have been the right man.

But the fact was he was completely unavailable – and Pauline had paid the price for turning for comfort to the wrong man. She had been left literally carrying the baby. And she wasn’t one of these naïve young girls who was going to wail and weep and say she’d been taken advantage of – because she hadn’t. On the night that it all happened, she’d been as much to blame as the fellow. They had both gone into it with the excuse of having a few too many drinks – but the truth was both their eyes had been wide open to what they were doing.

It was one of those things that had just happened, one of those things that had been going to happen since the first time they had clapped eyes on each other.

And although now she was desperate to find a decent husband and a father for Bernadette, she wasn’t
about to make the same mistake twice.

She motioned Jack over into a quiet corner at the back of the almost-empty hall, while Rose stood sharing her chewing-gum with the McCarthy fellow.

Although she couldn’t hear what they were saying, Pauline knew that they would be giving out about her – saying what a spoilsport she was.

“Okay,” she said, looking Jack Byrne straight in the eye, “I’ll let you take me home – but it’s got to be
straight
home to Tullamore.” She narrowed her eyes. “If you have any ideas about pulling off the road or anything like that – then you can forget them. I’d sooner walk than have any carry-on like
that
.”

Jack Byrne held his hands up defensively – but his eyes were laughing. “What class of a fellow do you think I am?” he demanded. “I have a good reputation to think of – a businessman like myself.”

He looked so like Oliver Gayle at that moment, that Pauline felt herself suddenly relax. Fun-loving –
great for the craic
– Oliver. Oliver – the man who always stood up for her. Oliver – her sister’s husband.

Maybe, just maybe – Jack Byrne was cut from the same kind of classy material as her brother-in-law. Handsome, and with that devastating twinkle in his eye.

How the quiet, reserved, soft-natured Aisling had ever landed him, Pauline would never understand. He needed a woman who was fit for him. Who would give as good as she got. Who would keep his interest both in and out of bed. As Pauline knew she could.

Never in a million years could Aisling handle the likes of Oliver Gayle – and she should never have married him. But she had. And Pauline would have to make do with somebody who looked a little bit like him.

Jack Byrne moved closer towards her now, offering her his arm to link on to.

Pauline slipped her arm through his, and then she turned towards her friend. Rose was smiling and giving her a thumbs-up sign. She was delighted that things had worked out as she suggested.

Pauline smiled back – but it was a false, forced smile. Rose had well and truly burnt her boats. Rose was now on the way out as a friend – car or no car. From now on, Pauline would sit at home listening to the radio every night, rather than lower herself to Rose Quinn’s standards. She’d even prefer to listen to Charles spouting his theories about life on other planets or have to join in with the family rosary – than put up with Rose’s carry-on.

Pauline might have let the family down and let herself down having Bernadette – but she still had pride. And she would rather be alone and
without
a man – than risk having the wrong man.

Rose had no scruples. She’d made that plain tonight going off with a drunken young buck. She was laughing and hanging on to the young fellow, and calling to Pauline that she would see her tomorrow. According to Rose, it had turned into a grand night out.

According to Rose, they both had a lad now – and that made everything okay.

Chapter 15

It was very quiet in the car. Pauline wished it was like the American films, where you just leaned over and switched on a radio on the dashboard of the car – and then the silence was gone.

But this wasn’t the American movies, and Jack Byrne no longer seemed like the confident, amusing fellow he had been in the dance-hall. After chatting for a few minutes as they walked along the main street of Mullingar to where the car was parked, he had suddenly run out of chat. He was
still mannerly and pleasant – but he was definitely quiet.

Pauline could hear herself chattering on much more than normal. Filling the gaps. Trying to find something to say that wasn’t about Bernadette – and avoiding anything that would locate her and the family easily. She didn’t want to listen to him telling her that he knew this one or that in Tullamore. Or even that he knew the shop and the family. Or maybe even that he knew Oliver. Nearly everyone knew Oliver Gayle.

As soon as Jack Byrne could place her and the Kearney family – he would know all about Bernadette. It was a foregone conclusion. It was too important a piece of gossip for people not too mention it immediately. It was human nature. And sadly – it was always the way.

Once they had pulled away from the streetlights, and the houses had started to become few and far between, Pauline suddenly wished that she hadn’t agreed to go with Jack Byrne. She wished that she hadn’t been so weak as to agree with Rose Quinn.

And the feeling of regret grew stronger as they drove further out of the town, and deeper into the country, where there was only the odd light dotted here and there in the pitch dark.

They drove along the winding road to Tyrrellspass, with little conversation as Jack Byrne concentrated on the driving and Pauline wondered how near home Rose was, or if she had even left Mullingar yet.