Till the Sun Shines Through (22 page)

‘No,' Bridie put in, ‘I'm sorry I was forced to do it nearly lost my life after it, but I think in the same circumstances I'd do it again.'

‘Look, Bridie,' Tom said, ‘such a thing will never happen to you again. Talk to God and he will give you peace. He understands what's in your heart more than any priest. And then put this behind you. Let me try and make you happy.'

‘You're so good, so understanding,' Bridie said, and added in amazement, ‘I didn't think men like you existed, I never thought I'd find happiness and fulfilment again.'

‘You can,' Tom said. He leant across the table and stroked Bridie's hands gently. ‘You're very special to me, Bridie. I love you.'

Bridie drew her breath in sharply. She had imagined she'd never hear those words.

‘Tell me how you feel about me,' Tom pleaded. ‘Do you like me a little?'

‘I like you more than I can say,' Bridie said. ‘And … And yes, I love you with all my heart.'

Tom's eyes were dancing with happiness and he leaned across the table again and kissed Bridie gently on the lips.

After that first date with Tom, Bridie agonised over the story she had told him, despite his sympathetic reaction. She knew she'd had to tell him; no way could she have started any form of relationship with a man and not be totally honest, but she worried about his reaction. Oh, she knew what his initial response had been in front of her, especially when she'd been so distressed. But when he'd left her outside Ellen's front door and began the walk home, had he thought that he'd had a narrow escape? Had he been alarmed that he'd nearly allowed himself to be drawn to such a girl – one used and abused and turned murderer?

Bridie barely slept and when she rose for nine o'clock Mass, Ellen took one look at the girl with the lint-white face with blue smudges beneath the red-rimmed eyes and felt her heart contract with pity. She'd been in bed when Bridie had returned from her date with Tom Cassidy and so hadn't seen her. She presumed Bridie had done what Mary had thought she would and told Tom and it hadn't gone down at all well. That young man was not the man Mary imagined, she thought to herself.

She said nothing about the evening to Bridie and cautioned Mary, who she met later at Mass, to say nothing either. ‘Least said, soonest mended, I always say,' and Mary agreed.

Bridie, who'd expected her aunt and sister to quiz her about the night before, was heartily glad they didn't, and she castigated herself for expecting any man to want anything to do with her.

She was totally unprepared for the knock that came on her aunt's door that day after dinner, as they sat together with a cup of tea and Sam dozed in the chair nearby.

Few people knocked on doors in that area; the priest maybe, or the doctor, and so Ellen looked at Bridie, her eyebrows raised in surprise, before pulling herself to her feet. She was surprised and not that pleased to see Tom outside, convinced he'd upset Bridie the previous evening. ‘Yes!' she barked.

Tom was surprised at the woman's abrupt tone. ‘Can I … May I see Bridie?'

Ellen was confused. She looked into the room and saw that Bridie was agitated and yet … yet there was a light dancing in her eyes. Her eyes slid to Tom's face and she saw the rapt attention there. Well, if that's the way the wind blew, she decided she'd do all she could to foster it. ‘Come away in,' she said to Tom, and threw the door open wider.

Sam, roused by the noise, sat up in the chair when he realised they had a visitor.

‘Sit down, Mr Cassidy,' Ellen said. She liked the look of this young man, she thought, studying him surreptitiously. She'd liked the look of him when he'd delivered Bridie home from work the previous evening and then later when he called to take her out, but neither time had she spoken to him above a greeting. She knew looks weren't everything but the man was fine and handsome and if he was keen on young Bridie then she needed to know more about him because despite her terrible experience with Francis, Bridie was naïve about the ways of the world and some men liked to play fast and loose with women.

However, within minutes of talking to Tom, Ellen knew that he wasn't like that. She liked the easy, yet respectful way in which he spoke to both her and Sam and the way he was so open and honest about everything. She learned about the small farm in the north of Ireland where he'd grown up which, being a boy born after three sisters, he was set to inherit. But then, as a child, he felt he had a vocation for the priesthood and was sent to a seminary in Liverpool.

‘And what happened?' Ellen asked.

Tom told the tale of the young boy who'd tried to repress doubts that he'd made a mistake for years so that he wouldn't disappoint everyone until the doubts grew until they could be ignored no longer. He was sent to work with a friend of the Bishop, a Father Flynn, who Tom said was such a fine man who did marvellous work with the poor and needy, in order to settle his mind.

‘However,' Tom said. ‘Within a few weeks of arriving in Birmingham, I knew that the priesthood wasn't for me and I'd been right not to go forward for ordination feeling like I did. I've officially left the seminary now and am a full-time lay worker at the Mission'.

He spread his hands. ‘And there you have it,' he concluded. ‘As for Bridie, I like her very, very much and if she's agreeable, I would love the opportunity to get to know her better.'

His eyes met Bridie's and Ellen plainly saw the spark between them. In that look, Ellen knew that Bridie had met her soulmate and her heart was eased, for she knew in Tom, Bridie had the chance of regaining happiness.

‘He's a fine man,' she told Mary later when Tom and Bridie had gone out for a walk. ‘Good, upright and honest, and Sam thought the same.'

‘So why was Bridie looking like a ghost through Mass?' Mary asked.

‘She was worried he'd have second thoughts,' Ellen said. ‘I snatched a few words with her when she went upstairs to change her shoes and fetch her coat. I wanted to make sure she really did want to go out with him and hadn't just said yes for a quiet life. You were right, Mary. She told Tom everything that had happened to her when they met yesterday. She worried all night that he might think the worst of her because of it.'

‘Bridie doesn't know her own worth,' Mary said. ‘She is beautiful, so delicate-looking, that given the slightest encouragement lads would trample one another to the ground to look after her, yet she seems unaware of it. Still, if she's found a decent lad now to care for her, then I'm delighted.'

‘At least he knows all now,' Ellen said. ‘There will be nothing to jump out at him later.'

Bridie was glad of that too when she found Peggy waiting for her as she made her way home from work the following day. ‘Fine man you have there,' she said sneeringly.

‘Aye.'

‘Catholic, is he?'

It was on the tip of Bridie's tongue to tell Peggy to mind her own business, but she didn't dare. ‘Aye, a good Catholic.'

‘And does he know, this good Catholic boy, what you did? That you murdered your baby?'

‘Aye, he does,' Bridie was able to answer. ‘I've told Tom everything.'

She knew she'd taken the wind out of Peggy's sails and she pushed past her and made for home.

And so Tom and Bridie's courtship began and what a wonderful courtship it was, especially for Bridie. Everything was new and exciting to her. Though Tom's salary was not great, he was generous with what he had and it mattered little to Bridie where they went. The nearby Broadway cinema was a treat as was the ABC further up Bristol Street. Sometimes they went into the town to a cinema there. But wherever they went, Bridie would be more than pleased. The cinema always seemed a magical place to her. Tom bought sweets for her as they went in and Bridie would love the feel of her feet sinking into the thick red carpet as they followed the usherette's dancing torch directing them to their seats.

The screen would be covered with thick velvet curtains and in front of it would be flimsy gauze, ruched and fastened at the sides, and she'd sit in breathless anticipation as the organist would pound out popular tunes on the piano. Then the lights would dim further, the curtains would pull back and they would hear the whirr of the projector start up and see the smoke of the beamed spotlight that came from the ceiling. Then the crowing cockerel advertising
Pathe News
, would resound around the cinema and Bridie would settle into her seat with a contented sigh.

She didn't really care what the film was. She wasn't that keen on the frightening ones like
Dracula
or
Frankenstein
but even those gave her the chance to grasp Tom's hand tight and hide her head in his jacket at the scary bits. She enjoyed
Tarzan the Ape Man
and laughed herself silly at Charlie Chaplin's antics in
City Lights
. She also saw Gracie Fields in
Sally in our Alley
and that meant especially a lot to her because just a few weeks later, she saw the lady in person at the Hippodrome.

They had to go up into the gods, where the stage was miles away and the seats hard, for Tom hadn't money for the better seats. Bridie certainly didn't care and she watched enthralled at the doughty woman, as small as herself, but with a powerful voice, belt out song after song until she held the audience in the palm of her hand.

Bridie thought she liked the music hall even more than the picture house because the people were real. There was George Formby and his ukulele, Max Miller, Tommy Trinder, Harry Lauder and countless more. She saw singers, dancers, acrobats, conjurers, comedians – such a variety of acts. And there was a vast array of theatres to choose from. If the programme at the Hippodrome didn't tempt, there was always the Alex or the Empire, or the Grand in nearby Corporation Street. Then there was the Theatre Royal in New Street, which showed musical comedies, or the Rep, which showed more serious plays.

But the most important treat Tom gave to Bridie was the idea that she was worthy of love, of friendship; she was a person he had chosen to get to know better. For the first time in a long, long while, she began to feel better about herself and she made tentative approaches to the girls she worked with. It was easier now that she had things to say, for she was able to discuss films and musical acts she'd seen and talk about the stars with the rest of them.

The girls didn't bear any grudges towards Bridie for her initial reaction to them – most thought she'd been a little shy, unused to their ways and maybe terribly homesick. Whatever had ailed her in the beginning was over now. Bridie was glad of their friendship. They were all interested in hearing about Tom and Bridie was only too happy to talk about him.

‘Takes you to the pictures a lot does he, this Tom?' a girl asked one day.

‘Aye … Well, I suppose.'

‘Want to watch him, I'd say.'

‘Why?'

‘'Cos, they takes liberties,' another said with feeling. ‘God, sometimes I think it's the only reason they go to the cinema. Went out with one chap and he had his bleeding hands all over me. Thought I was out with a bloody octopus.'

‘Yeah,' said another. ‘They buy you a packet of acid drops and a choc ice and think it's license to undress you in the back row.'

‘Tom doesn't do anything like that,' Bridie said, shocked at the casual way such things were spoken of.

‘What does he do?'

‘He holds my hand.'

‘Is that all?' the first girl asked. ‘You mean he don't try 'owt on?'

‘No!'

‘Well, I'd say he's either a saint or a nancy boy,' the first girl declared.

‘Or a gentleman,' the supervisor declared, seeing Bridie's confusion and embarrassment and feeling sorry for her ‘But whatever Bridie's boyfriend is or isn't doesn't matter to you. What does matter is getting back to the shop floor because your dinner hour is nearly up.'

A few of the girls made faces behind the supervisor's back, but they all followed her meekly enough. Bridie thought of the conversation all afternoon. She wasn't sure what a nancy boy was, but it didn't sound a nice thing to be. She knew it was mainly her fault that they only held hands. She enjoyed some forms of intimacy and could even tolerate his arm around her shoulders, unless he tried to press her against him, but the minute he tried to pull her into a tight embrace, she would stiffen and pull away. She tried to explain to Tom that every time he did that, it reminded her of Uncle Francis and also tried telling herself not to be so silly, but it was no good.

Then, one Saturday towards the end of April, as Tom met Bridie from work, he suggested they go to the Bull Ring that evening. It was dry and quite warm and Bridie readily agreed. The girls at work often talked about the fun to be had on a Saturday night at the Bull Ring and she remembered Tom describing it all to her in the train way back in December. She'd never seen the Bull Ring at night; the time she was over before, Mary used to be tired in the evenings and not really up to jaunts like that. She was filled with excitement to be going to such a place.

Most of the shops were shutting that Saturday evening as Bridie emerged and Tom ran across to Mountford's the butchers to buy a meat pie each to eat as they walked through the cobbled streets. Most of the barrow boys were still there, their wares lit by spluttering gas flares, and the place was almost as busy as daytime.

The Market Hall was still open and full of people so Tom took Bridie's hand and led her up the steps. Bridie was glad to see the steps cleared of the old lags who made her feel so sad. They wandered between the stalls as they ate their pies, looking at the array of goods for sale.

Some stalls sold food, fruit and vegetables, eggs, cheese and dairy produce, while several sold flowers. Others were festooned with clothes or bales of clothes and were alongside those selling pots and pans, crockery, toys and sweets, and there were also some junk stalls where you could pick up many interesting things.