Across a Summer Sea (35 page)
Making sure she kept far enough behind him so that if he turned he wouldn’t see her, she followed him into the city, wondering where he was going. A wild, mad thought came hurtling into her mind. Had he come to look for her? She banished it. Why should he? And he had no idea even where to start searching for her. But still she followed until she realised that he was heading for Rodney Street. It was in a quiet and very affluent part of the city and many doctors and specialists had their offices there. Was he ill? The thought made her feel faint again. There couldn’t be anything wrong with him, there couldn’t! He had been so fit and healthy and he was only a young man. She stopped on a corner as she watched him go up the steps and ring the bell of one of the imposing houses. The door was opened and he disappeared inside.
She waited a few seconds and then she walked slowly towards the house and stopped outside. There was a highly polished brass plaque on the wall. She moved closer in order to read it. There were three names on it, all doctors, but what kind of doctors were they? There must be something wrong with him, and something bad if he had come all this way to see a doctor. They had important doctors in Dublin too, surely. She hung around in an agony of indecision. She should go home: what if he came out and saw her? But she wanted to see him again, if only from a distance. Passers-by looked at her askance and at last she realised that this wasn’t the type of neighbourhood where she could linger for long. Soon, someone was bound to come and move her on, thinking she was a beggar or worse. She had to go back. She had to go to work. ‘Back to scrubbing floors, which is all you’re fit for, Mary McGann,’ she told herself, casting a last, longing glance up the quiet street.
Richard stepped out of the doorway and looked down the street. It hadn’t been a successful visit. In fact it had been yet another waste of time. He could have saved himself the time, effort, money and emotional upheaval. The sun was slipping below the rooftops and as he stepped forward he caught a glimpse of red-gold hair as a young woman disappeared around the corner. His heart leaped. Mary! He was certain it was Mary! He took two paces forward before he realised he had called her name aloud and that a dour, middle-aged woman was looking at him very oddly. He tipped his hat respectfully to her and began to walk away. What kind of a fool was he to think that in a city of this size he would find her with such ease? He’d tried hard enough in Dublin and Liverpool was twice as big and twice as crowded. He’d seen a glimpse of a woman with auburn hair. How many of them were there in a place like this?
When he turned the corner there were more people on the street; his gaze scanned them all, hopefully. There was no sign of her. He thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his trousers and walked on towards St Luke’s Church. He hadn’t come looking for her, he had told himself it was pointless. Well, he might as well make his way towards the Landing Stage for the ferry, stopping for something to eat and a drink on the way. He felt dispirited and depressed, despite the pleasantness of the summer evening.
He had reached the top of Lord Street and was debating whether to try one of the steak houses in Castle Street when at the top, just in front of the Town Hall, he once again caught a glimpse of auburn hair. Surely . . . surely it just
might
be? He hurried his steps, frantically thinking what he could say if it was indeed her. The traffic was heavy and when he reached the corner of Dale Street he thought he’d lost her but his gaze seemed drawn to a shadow that disappeared into the doorway of an office building. Now what? Should he follow? If it was her, why was she going into offices and at this time, when all the office staff were leaving? He must have been mistaken. Should he wait? What if he hung around here and it wasn’t her? Oh, what else did he have to do?
might
be? He hurried his steps, frantically thinking what he could say if it was indeed her. The traffic was heavy and when he reached the corner of Dale Street he thought he’d lost her but his gaze seemed drawn to a shadow that disappeared into the doorway of an office building. Now what? Should he follow? If it was her, why was she going into offices and at this time, when all the office staff were leaving? He must have been mistaken. Should he wait? What if he hung around here and it wasn’t her? Oh, what else did he have to do?
After half an hour his optimism was fading. There were few people on the street and a strolling constable had eyed him curiously. He had wanted to see her so much that he had become obsessive. He might even have mistaken it all. It might just have been a shadow. Wearily he went into a pub. He needed a drink.
He had tried to read the evening paper but hadn’t been able to concentrate. There were too many worries pressing on his mind. Too many questions unanswered; too many problems that seemed to have no solutions. The landlord had provided a scratch meal and at last he looked at his pocket watch and decided he would have to make his way to the ferry. The whole journey had been pointless.
He paid the landlord but hesitated before leaving.
‘Something wrong?’ the man asked.
‘Those offices over there?’
‘What about them?’
‘Do . . . do people go there late on?’
‘Only the cleaners. The women go in when the clerks ’ave gone ’ome.’
‘The cleaners,’ he repeated slowly.
‘You lookin’ fer someone?’
He nodded slowly. If she needed work would she . . . ? Was that it? ‘What time do they finish?’
The man shrugged. ‘Usually about ten.’
Richard looked again at his watch. It was nearly a quarter to ten, but the ferry sailed at half past. Could he wait? Could he risk missing the ferry? If it wasn’t her, then what? ‘Thanks!’ he muttered, making his way to the door. He had to try. He had to see if it was her. Quickly he crossed the road, walked to the building and stood in the shadows beneath the arched stone doorway. He’d wait. If it wasn’t her then . . . then he’d try and make a dash for the ferry.
Mary was tired, but at least these days she didn’t have more work waiting at home for her. There was no bed to change, no washing to soak, no dishes to wash. In the mornings she didn’t have to go to the washhouse at all. After she’d cleaned up when the children had gone to school the house stayed tidy.
As she came slowly down the stairs her mind went back to the late afternoon. If she hadn’t gone down to the river she would never have seen him. Never have experienced the pain she had felt ever since, and the worry. Was he ill? Yet what did it matter, she thought in despair. She would never see him again. He had gone out of her life three years ago.
No, she had to be truthful. She had walked out of his life. She had left him. He had begged her to stay, but she had come back to Frank. Had it been worth it? Three years of hell they’d been and not wholly because of Frank. All the memories had tormented her. Forget him! Forget him! she whispered to herself. Oh, she was so weary and miserable. Could she afford to get a tram home, she wondered? No. Lizzie needed a new dress, she was growing so fast.
She had reached the bottom of the steps. She stopped and pushed a few strands of damp hair away from her forehead, then she jumped, startled, as a figure moved in the shadows.
‘What do you want? I’ve got no money. I’m just a cleaner.’
Richard couldn’t speak. It
was
her! He would know her voice anywhere.
was
her! He would know her voice anywhere.
‘What do you want? I’ll call the police!’ Mary was beginning to feel afraid.
‘Mary! Mary, my God, it’s really you! Don’t be afraid, Mary!’
Her hand went to her throat. ‘
Richard!
’
Richard!
’
He stepped forward, reaching out for her.
She backed away. He couldn’t see her looking like this!
‘Mary! Oh, Mary, I never thought I’d see you again, then this afternoon I . . .’ Ignoring her protests he took her in his arms and she clung to him. ‘I waited for you, Mary! I was sure it was you. I never forgot you.’
She buried her face against his shoulder. ‘I never forgot you, Richard. I . . . I’ve missed you so much.’
He raised her head and kissed her and she never wanted the moment to end.
At last he held her away from him and looked at her closely, realising for the first time how thin and worn out she was. ‘Oh, Mary! Mary, what’s happened to you?’
Tears pricked her eyes. ‘Richard, I never wanted you to see me like this! When I saw you this afternoon I was so ashamed!’
‘You saw me? Why didn’t you come to me?’ He was confused. Had she followed him? Why hadn’t she approached him?
‘I . . . I couldn’t. I just
couldn’t
. I felt so . . . humiliated.’
couldn’t
. I felt so . . . humiliated.’
‘What happened? Is he responsible for this?’ He stroked her thin, grimy cheek.
‘He’s dead. He killed himself,’ she said flatly, not caring that he knew.
Hope surged through him. She was free. ‘Mary, I’m not letting you go again. Where do you live? Is it far?’
Appalled, Mary thought of the tiny, poorly furnished house in the slum street. ‘No! No, Richard, please! Let me go back alone tonight,’ she begged, her cheeks burning. ‘I’ll meet you tomorrow, I promise.’
‘Mary, I don’t care where you live! I can’t - won’t let you go!’
‘Please, please?’
He looked hurt. ‘Mary, does it matter so much?’
‘It does to me, Richard. I promise I’ll meet you. You . . . are staying?’
He nodded. ‘I was due to go back but I’ll find a hotel. Let me find you a hackney at least?’
She nodded with some relief and he held her tightly again.
‘Mary, you won’t disappear again?’
She kissed him gently on the cheek. ‘No, I’ll never do that again.’
He held her close as they walked to the main road to look for a cab. He couldn’t understand her reluctance to let him take her home but he had to respect her wishes. He didn’t want to lose her again.
As she sat in the unaccustomed luxury of the hackney she could hardly believe it. After three long, desolate years he’d come back into her life and he
hadn’t
forgotten her. He
hadn’t
recoiled from her in disbelief and disgust, he had wanted to take her back to Newsham Street. She had promised to meet him tomorrow morning in a private room in the Acropolis Club. She would have had time to think and to tidy herself up; he would have had time to make some plans. How was she to sleep tonight? Would she tell Maggie and the children? A wave of happiness washed over her. No, she would have this one night to keep her secret to herself, to savour it. Every minute of it.
hadn’t
forgotten her. He
hadn’t
recoiled from her in disbelief and disgust, he had wanted to take her back to Newsham Street. She had promised to meet him tomorrow morning in a private room in the Acropolis Club. She would have had time to think and to tidy herself up; he would have had time to make some plans. How was she to sleep tonight? Would she tell Maggie and the children? A wave of happiness washed over her. No, she would have this one night to keep her secret to herself, to savour it. Every minute of it.
She slept little and was up early and if Maggie noticed anything different about her she didn’t comment. After the children had gone Mary went and asked Hetty Price if she could borrow a dress and a hat, telling her she had an important meeting in town, for a job. Hetty was curious but didn’t press her too much. Poor Mary had had a terrible time lately, she thought. At least she deserved some kind of luck, even if it was only a better job than cleaning.
Mary felt much better when she left the house and walked towards the tram stop. The dress was a bit big but at least it was clean and fresh and stylish and Hetty’s wide-brimmed straw hat with the pale green ribbons made her look less washed out.
She felt nervous as she walked up the wide steps and into the open doorway beneath the stone portico of the Acropolis Club. It was cool and dark inside but as she walked across the hall towards the porter’s desk she saw him striding over and her heart leaped.
‘My guest has arrived, Rodgers,’ Richard informed the man, taking her hand.
‘Right, sir. Will I lead the way?’
‘No, that’s all right, thank you.’ Richard smiled, took her arm and led her down a narrow corridor.
Once inside the small heavily furnished room, he took her in his arms.
‘Oh, Mary! I’ve hardly slept a wink.’
‘Neither have I! Sometimes I wondered if I was dreaming.’
‘Did you tell the children?’
She shook her head. ‘I wanted to see you again first.’
‘It’s been very hard for you, Mary, hasn’t it?’
She nodded. ‘Yes. Oh, I’ve worked so hard. I
had
to, to try to make ends meet. Taking in washing and cleaning offices was the only work I could do and still look after . . . him.’
had
to, to try to make ends meet. Taking in washing and cleaning offices was the only work I could do and still look after . . . him.’
‘When did he die?’
‘Nearly five weeks ago and even then he humiliated me. There was no decent burial. Suicide is a crime in the eyes of the Church and the law. But it was a release for both him and me. Oh, he was so bitter! He hated me. He hated it that he had to rely totally on me.’
Richard couldn’t begin to imagine what she’d gone through these last three years. ‘I wish you’d written, Mary. I could have helped and I would have.’
‘I couldn’t have done that, Richard.’
‘I tried to find you, Mary. I went to Dublin. I went to see your relatives to ask if they had an address.’
‘You saw Molly?’ She was surprised. She’d had two letters from her aunt but she’d never mentioned his visit.
‘No. Your cousin’s husband. A surly man who had no high opinion of you and said neither he nor your aunt had any idea where you were, and nor did he care.’
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