A Kiss and a Promise (49 page)

Conan did not take much persuading either. Having admitted that he had no money and no idea of his father’s whereabouts, it seemed only sensible to go to the Gallagher farm and make what enquiries he could from there. So it was four people who ascended the sloping lane which led up to Headland Farm, and were presently ushered into the large and homely kitchen. Here, Michael introduced Mabel, Conan and Ginny to his beaming parents. He had telegraphed them twice since returning to Ireland; once to let them know he was in Dublin and searching for his daughter, who might well arrive at the farm before him, and the second time to say he had found Ginny and would be returning with her quite soon. He meant to explain Ginny’s falling in with the tinkers, but as soon as she had got them all down to the table, with a hot meal in front of them, Maeve Gallagher forestalled him. She produced a very dirty sheet of yellow notepaper and read it aloud. It said, quite simply, that Ginny had been found by a good-hearted family of travelling folk who meant to deliver her safe and sound to her father’s farm.

She is costin us considrable in time and money and going out of our way to fetch her to you
, the letter went on.
So we’ll be asken that you pay us bak some o the money we laid out. Us reckons she worth a 100 pounds to you and mebbe a coupel o thay fancy horses what your gal have talked about. It’ll be mebbe a month afore we reaches you so you’ve time aplenty to get the money together and oblige a good friend
.

The letter, if you could call it that, was signed with a straggly cross. Michael read it aloud, then gave a contemptuous snort and tossed it into the fire. ‘Well, Ginny, my girl, you’ve saved us a deal o’ trouble,’ he said gruffly. ‘So now we all know for certain just what their little plan was, but you and Conan, between you, have foiled them very neatly.’ He turned to his mother. ‘Mammy, I just want you to know what a good friend Mabel has been, both to me and to Ginny. If it hadn’t been for her, I don’t believe I’d ever have found my girl. And Conan saved her life … but we’ll make a real tale of it as soon as we’ve ate our supper and are sittin’ round the fire, relaxed.’

Later that evening, the whole story was told, yet again, to an admiring audience, though Maeve Gallagher confided to her husband, when they were alone in their goose-feather bed, that she could not imagine why Michael was taking Mabel Derbyshire back home to Liverpool in a few days. ‘For it’s plain as the nose on me face that our lad’s in love wit’ the girl an’ she wit’ him,’ she announced. ‘Neither of ’em has ever been married, though I know Michael was in love wit’ Ginny’s mammy, but she’s been dead these ten years. Surely he isn’t holdin’ back because of Stella?’

‘I dunno,’ Sean Gallagher mumbled. ‘I know you say he’s fond o’ the colleen, but he’s so dazzled over Ginny – ain’t she the prettiest thing, Maeve? – that I don’t reckon he’s thinkin’ straight. I reckon she’s all he wants right now. And you, Maeve – how are you after feelin’ towards your only granddaughter?’

‘She’s the best thing that’s happened to me since our Michael were born,’ Maeve said contentedly. ‘Did you see her give me a great big hug and a kiss when I showed her the little room we’d made ready for her? There’s nothin’ sweeter than a lovin’ child.’

‘And did you see her give
me
a great big hug and a kiss,’ Sean said, ‘when I said she could have Floss in her room, just for one night? And tomorrow she swears she’ll get up early so you an’ she can collect the hens’ eggs from the nests, and then she wants me to teach her to milk the cows.’

Maeve chuckled. ‘I wondered if she’d want to go wit’ Michael when he takes Mabel to catch the ferry, but I don’t think she even considered it and I’m sure they won’t really want her company,’ she admitted. ‘It’s grand to know she’d rather be wit’ us though, Sean. She says she won’t call me Granny, because of Granny Bennett back in Liverpool; she’s goin’ to call me Mammy Maeve, which is just fine by me.’

‘She’ll mebbe call me Granddad, since she’s got her own daddy wit’ her at last,’ Sean said sleepily. ‘The little lad ain’t bad, either. But he won’t be wit’ us long. He really means to find that no-good tinker father of his and though I telled him he were welcome to stay, I think mebbe leavin’ is the right thing for him. He’s a born wanderer, you know, and Michael said, after the kids had gone to bed, that the boy’s a horse caller. If he is, he’ll never lack for work in Ireland.’

Michael got into bed that night feeling completely happy. His mother had made him a shakedown on the couch in the kitchen so that Mabel could use his room, and young Conan, at his own request, had been given a blanket and had been allowed to doss down in the hay store where, no doubt, he was snug as a bug in a rug.

Despite the exciting day he had had, or perhaps because of it, Michael lay awake for a long time. There was so much to think about and consider! He had been so lucky to find his little daughter, and to persuade Mabel to accompany them to the farm. Yet he had still not managed to tell Mabel how he felt about her. She had said she would stay for a few days and Michael knew that he must pluck up his courage. Naturally, he feared a rebuff, but he knew that if he let the opportunity pass, let Mabel return to Liverpool without knowing he loved her, he would never forgive himself.

He had loved Stella deeply and truly, had thought he could never love another, yet during their journey across Ireland he had begun to realise, more and more, that though his love for Stella could never die, it had begun to take its proper place as a part of his past. Life is for living, he told himself now, watching thin threads of smoke wandering lazily upward from the banked down fire. I’ve got Ginny and the farm and me good parents, but a man needs something more. I must tell Mabel how I feel or I will lose her, and she’s become important to me – in a way, more important than Stella ever was. My love for Stella was first love, fragile and beautiful. But my love for Mabel was forged in a hotter fire. I didn’t even like her at first; I thought she was bossy and a know-all. Even her looks didn’t attract me; I told myself she weren’t my type. Yet now … oh, she’s me golden girl and I love her from the top of her head to the tip of her toes. Why, when I think about the two of them, Stella is moonlight – hair midnight black, skin silvery white – whereas Mabel is sunshine. Oh, I must, I must pluck up me courage and ask her to be me wife.

Having made up his mind to act the very next day, he began to doze at last and presently slept, to dream of a life with Mabel always at his side and the sun always showing.

Mabel, lying in Michael’s bed, watched the moon rise, huge and yellow, in the dark sky outside the window and thought she had never been so miserable. I’m the only truly unhappy person in this whole house, she told herself, because the others have all got just what they wanted. Mr and Mrs Gallagher have got the granddaughter they’ve longed for, and Michael’s got his little girl back again. Ginny’s so like her mother that she will be a constant reminder of how much he loved Stella, and how much he misses her. For my part, I’ve made a complete fool of myself. I’ve gone and fallen in love with a man who isn’t free to love me back because he’s still in the thrall of the woman he loved ten long years ago. Several times I thought he was beginning to like me, thought I had a chance with him, but that was before Ginny turned up. I realised then that Stella must have been incredibly beautiful, the sort of woman a man can never forget. I’m just ordinary, I’m not even pretty, so the best thing I can do is get myself back to Liverpool and try to forget the whole Gallagher family. No matter what the Bennetts may think, I don’t believe Ginny will ever return to live with them; she’s got too much sense. No one in their right mind would move away from this beautiful spot if they could possibly help it and Ginny’s a sensible child. Oh, how I wish … but it’s no use wishing, and the longer I stay here, the harder leaving will be. So I’ll go first thing in the morning, before anyone’s up, and make my way back to the ferry alone. If I linger, Ginny will try to persuade me to stay on for a few more days and I just don’t think I could bear it. Life here could have been wonderful, but I can’t, and won’t, play second fiddle to a woman who’s been dead ten years. And anyway, Michael isn’t going to ask me to stay. Why should he?

The hours slipped by but still Mabel could not sleep. At one point, she even considered that Michael might ask her to marry him simply to provide Ginny with a mother figure. Even if he doesn’t love me, I could be useful, she told herself, and perhaps, in time, he might begin to feel as I do … wouldn’t that be worth staying for?

But she knew, in her heart, that she could not take such a risk; she loved Michael far too well. No, her best course would be to go away, to leave right now, so that the pain of goodbyes would be spared her.

Quiet as a mouse, she slipped out of bed, dressed, packed her small case. Then she took pen and paper and wrote a note, thanking the Gallaghers for their hospitality, saying that she would no doubt meet Ginny and Michael again when they returned to Liverpool to see Ginny’s relatives, and that she had decided to leave at once in order to save Michael the trouble of accompanying her back to the ferry when she knew he was so busy. She signed it,
Your friend, Mabel Derbyshire
, stuck it in a prominent position on the pillow, and then turned to the small window which she opened to its widest extent. She had not taken a great deal of notice the previous evening as to the layout of the farmhouse, but was pretty sure she would have to cross the kitchen in order to get out through the door. And that would mean passing the slumbering Michael. If he woke …

There was a chair in her room. She climbed on to the seat and eased herself out through the window, dropping lightly on to the hard packed earth beneath. A dog trotted over to her, sniffed curiously at her legs, and then returned to the shed whence it had come. Even the dog isn’t really interested in me, doesn’t care whether I come or go, Mabel told herself bitterly, heading for the lane which led to the nearest, village. I’m best out of here; perhaps everyone should stick to their own place. After all, it wasn’t Michael’s idea that I should accompany him on his search – oh, he was the first to suggest it, but I’d put the notion in his head – so if I’ve got hurt, it’s entirely my own fault.

Glancing round, she saw that the gentle hills ahead of her were already standing out boldly against the lightening sky; dawn could not be far distant for already the stars were paling and a little wind had got up. The verges were thick with wild flowers and as she walked the tall creamy spires of meadowsweet brushed her skirt, sending its heady fragrance billowing around her. Unaccountably, tears came to her eyes; she had always loved the country and the thought of living, once more, in a great city dismayed her. But there are other country lanes, other beautiful spots with the sea close at hand, she told herself, beginning to walk more quickly. I’m doing the right thing, I know I am!

Michael did not know what had awoken him; he just found himself wide awake. He knew it was not time to get up though he could see through the kitchen window that a new day was dawning. He sat up, stretched and yawned, and in mid-yawn stopped short, listening. He had heard a very slight creaking sound and then, he could have sworn, a very soft footfall. He stared intently at the lighter square of the window, but heard nothing more. The farm was so remote that fears of an intruder seemed ridiculous, but he remembered that the tinkers had been heading for Kerry, and knew the address of this farm. He did not think the Kavanaghs could possibly have reached them already, but he knew there were other tinkers and that often such people, though they would not break into the house, had no such compunction regarding hay stores, shippens and hen houses. If he was right and there was an intruder, then it behoved him to get up and tackle them before the Gallaghers found themselves a couple of pigs short. He got out of bed, remembering that his mother had told him the previous evening that Jet, the black mare, had recently dropped a fine foal. If tinkers were sneaking around by the stable …

It was the work of a moment to pull on a thick jersey and his old flannel trousers, to shove his feet into boots and to pick up the heavy shillelagh which his father always left by the back door. As soon as he was outside, he realised that it was no longer truly night. The stars were paling and the sky in the east showed a pink flush. He noticed the little dawn wind which was already stirring the summer foliage on the gnarled trees which surrounded the farm garden, then he crossed to the hay store remembering, belatedly, that Conan was sleeping outside. It’s stupid I am, thick as a short plank, he told himself. If Conan got caught short in the night, he will have come out of the hay store and gone to the midden. It’ll be him I heard, and besides, there are clearly no intruders around or the dogs would have been going mad. He turned back towards the house and immediately noticed the open window. Ah, so it was that he had heard. Mabel had undoubtedly flung it open because she was feeling the heat, so that was one mystery solved.

He was actually crossing the yard when it occurred to him that the window was too wide open. He stood for a moment, wondering what to do, then he thought that the girl might be feeling unwell. He knew no intruder could have got in without rousing the dogs, so had no fear on that score, but if Mabel had felt ill …

He was across to the window in three or four strides, too worried to wonder about the propriety of peering into a young lady’s bedroom, and saw at once that the room was empty. He also saw the note on the pillow and all his forebodings came rushing back. Whatever had happened? Something must have upset her … but what could it be? Whatever could cause her to climb out of a window, in the middle of the night, and leave his home? His parents had made it plain that they wanted her to stay for as long as she could be spared – he had made it plain too, surely. But there was no point in dithering here; he must read the note and find out if she had left because of something someone had said or done.

Seconds later, he stood in the small bedroom, reading the note whilst his heart sank into his boots. Why, oh why, had he not told her how he felt before they even reached the farmhouse? He had known in his own heart that she was the only girl for him, yet he had not had the courage to tell her so. Well, he would be served out if she had made up her mind to have nothing more to do with him, though he still could not understand why she had left so abruptly.