City Girl (28 page)

As she boarded the boat train at Euston and saw the tears in Doreen’s eyes, she felt an enormous sense of regret to be leaving the city that had been a haven to her. Doreen embraced her
warmly. It would be hard for Devlin to find as good a friend as Doreen had been through the months in London and they promised to keep in close touch, a promise that was kept throughout their
lives.

Seventeen

Standing on the deck of the gently rolling ship as she sailed into Dublin, the sun’s rays painting the early morning sky, Devlin felt a strange mixture of emotions. It
seemed like an eternity ago that she had been going in the opposite direction, a lot less mature, a lot more self-centred than she was today. Today all her orientation was towards the sleeping
child in her arms. Devlin smiled down at the white-bonneted head. Obviously the sea suited her daughter as she had slept for most of the journey.

The ship glided serenely past the emerald and mauve heather-covered Howth Head. In the distance she could see the distinctive twin red and white ESB chimneys stark against the vivid early
morning sky. Her heart gave a funny little lurch as they sailed into the curve of Dublin Bay and they made their way majestically past the Poolbeg and North Bull lighthouses that guarded the
entrance to the river Liffey. Up then between the South Wall and the Bull Wall that stretched out like two long welcoming arms drawing them towards their journey’s end. She was coming home to
the city of her birth with her own daughter, a city that despite its faintly decayed air, its crime and ugliness, always tugged at the heartstrings of those who left it.

Lifting her head to catch the gentle salt-laden breeze, she breathed deeply the air of home. Kate was at the quays to meet them, a relieved and delighted Kate, glad to see both of them on home
soil. She begged Devlin to come and live with her but her niece was adamant. She’d stay with Kate until she got a flat in Dublin but she was determined to stand on her own two feet. It
wouldn’t be fair to have Kate made a target of idle gossip in the village and besides she had no intention of burdening her with more problems. God knows, Kate had had enough hardship nursing
her husband through his long and fatal illness.

No! she thought briskly. She had to take responsibility for her own life and Lynn’s. After all it had been her irresponsibility and selfishness that had caused her problems in the first
place. Kate hadn’t pressed her; there was time enough for that. At least her beloved niece was home where Kate could visit her occasionally. It did her heart good to see the strength of
character and new maturity so evident in Devlin. Before, she had been a lovable but immature girl, slightly selfish, always used to getting her own way. Now Kate saw a determined and thoughtful
young woman ready to make her own way in life. Devlin and Lynn were coming down to the farm for a week or two before settling back into city life. A fresh healthy Rosslare breeze was just what both
of them needed to get that pinched white look out of their faces. Once Kate made up her mind about something there was no changing her mind, and in a way Devlin was glad she didn’t
immediately have to face the task of finding accommodation.

Devlin hadn’t yet told her father of her plans to come home. She’d wait until she was settled somewhere and then ring him. For now she was just content to surrender herself to
Kate’s delightful pampering. What bliss it was to wake up in Kate’s so comfortable bed where she slept, burrowed down into soft feather pillows on lavender scented snowy sheets, arms
and legs spread extravagantly. So different from her small divan in London. Lynn too had slept well, a rare event. It must be the sea air, her mother surmised thankfully, sticking her head out the
window and breathing in deep lungfuls of that rich sea-scented air.

Gazing out at the panorama of blue sky, green fields and aquamarine water, Devlin felt herself really relax for the first time since she had become pregnant. She watched a ferry make a graceful
sweeping arc of the bay below her as it prepared to dock at the pier. As a child it had been her great delight to watch the boats coming and going. Her big treat was to be allowed to stay up until
the lights came on at night when the great curve of the pier and viaduct would be magically illuminated like a sparkling glittering necklace in the velvet night. The lights of Wexford would start
twinkling across the bay, the late train would rumble past, an immense glowworm casting shadows from its illuminated carriages on the softly swaying bushes that ran along the railway line that
traversed Kate’s farm.

Then the magic moment: two mournful howls from the ship’s sirens, a belch of smoke and she was moving away from the pier with all her lights aglow, a floating Christmas tree. The young
Devlin would watch until the last light was swallowed up by the night. Eyes drooping, her last memory would be of Kate tucking her up with a kiss and a cuddle that would send her to sleep
smiling.

Even now she was an adult, the magic was still there. She had watched the ship before going to bed, watched the sweeping yellow beam of Tuskar lighthouse rhythmically patrol the sky and sea and
even as she lay in bed its beam was still faintly caressing the picture of the Virgin Mary hanging over her bed, every sixty seconds. She fell asleep looking forward to the time when Lynn would be
old enough to be entranced.

Some things never changed, she thought happily the next morning, breathing air untainted by smog. She had slept soundly and felt ready for anything. From her bedroom window she could see the men
at work gathering the hay. Later she would bring Lynn down to the fields for her first viewing of the countryside. The mouth-watering aroma of sizzling bacon wafted up the stairs and Devlin needed
no second invitation. Before long she was tucking into a breakfast of rashers, sausages, black and white puddings, tomatoes and fresh mushrooms as well as crusty homemade brown bread smothered in
creamy butter. To hell with cholesterol, she thought – she had died and gone to heaven.

It was an idyllic two weeks of long walks in the rambling winding lanes, or down by the water’s edge playing with her daughter who would gurgle delightedly as the foamy surging surf
covered her toes. Devlin would spend hours looking at her baby. She still found it hard to believe that this small wriggling bundle of energy was of her body, her own flesh and blood. Her tiny
little fingers would grip Devlin’s as she fed her and once, thinking of Lydia, Devlin felt a sense of pity overcome her bitterness. Maybe if Lydia had held a child of her own in her arms she
might have been a different woman.

All too soon it was time to face reality again. Devlin took the train to Dublin, leaving the baby in her aunt’s care. With intensely mixed feelings she went to the relevant social welfare
department and explained that she was an unmarried mother with no means and no housing. As she filled out the necessary forms Devlin felt truly stigmatized. Labelled. Red-cheeked, she left the
building feeling almost furtive. The girl behind the counter had been very nice indeed but filling out the form to claim her unmarried mother’s allowance had been almost soul destroying.

Devlin knew that many people, including one very prominent lady politician, believed that girls deliberately got pregnant so as to be in receipt of the allowance. It was a view that was
frequently aired on the radio with superior self-righteousness. How smug they were, how condemnatory!

Devlin knew, as she filled out that form, that she would never judge a person again. ‘Cast not the first stone’ would be her motto as long as she lived.

She had been referred to a hostel for unmarried mothers by the welfare people and had been informed that if she stayed there for a while she would be housed fairly quickly by the Corporation.
She had gone to the address given, made her arrangements, gone back to Rosslare and collected Lynn. They took up residence the following evening. Several times in the few weeks she spent in the
hostel, she felt like eating her pride and taking Kate up on her offer. Although the rambling old hostel was clean and functional, the lack of privacy and its institutional air almost drove Devlin
crazy. To escape, she would get up early, feed and dress herself and the baby and walk town all day, feeding Lynn in hotel washrooms when necessary. She hadn’t got in touch with Caroline or
Maggie, preferring to wait until she was settled, because she knew in her heart and soul that Maggie would insist on her staying with them, and she might not have the strength of will to resist. If
she ended up staying with Maggie, it would take her longer to get housed, as she would no longer be considered homeless.

One afternoon, pushing her buggy around her old haunts of girlhood, Grafton Street and Wicklow Street, Devlin almost bumped into a young woman coming in the opposite direction. The other girl
was so busy talking to her friend she hadn’t been looking where she was going. ‘For goodness sake! Would you ever watch where you are going!’

There was something vaguely familiar about the strident affected voice and Devlin curbed the retort that sprang to her lips. It couldn’t be! It was! Oh God, why her, of all people?

Instinctively Devlin thrust her left hand into her jacket pocket. She had never been able to stand Jeraldine Ryan who was so affected she spelt her name with a ‘J’ rather than a
‘G.’ A loud, brash, opinionated girl of limited intelligence, she had undoubtedly been the most unpopular girl in the class. Although the clothes she wore were wildly expensive,
Jeraldine had absolutely no sense of style. Devlin had sometimes wondered if the girl was colour-blind. Their set had had many a giggle as she appeared in the most outrageous colour schemes. She
had a thing about mohair and must have had about twenty multi-coloured jumpers that she wore to dazzling effect. Once, hearing Jeraldine announce loudly that she was going to buy an expensive
bikini for her forthcoming Greek holiday, Ginette, a friend and classmate of Devlin’s, had muttered caustically, ‘Mohair no doubt!’ causing Devlin to burst into uncontrollable
giggles.

She had been blonde the last time Devlin had seen her, but her hair had now a peculiar reddish orangish hue, which was why Devlin had not immediately recognized her. How would Devlin explain
about Lynn? This was the first time she had met someone she knew since she became pregnant. Should she have stayed in London after all, to spare herself this kind of trauma? All these thoughts
flashed through her mind as she stared at the hard, heavily made-up face of the other girl.

Jeraldine looked right through her! Almost as though she didn’t exist. ‘Excuse me!’ she snapped, brushing past and once again launching into oratory. Devlin stood open-mouthed.
She hadn’t recognized her! A wry smile crossed her lips. All the heart thumping for nothing. She, the jean-clad Devlin of now, hair pulled back in a pony tail, was not the expensively-dressed
fashion-conscious Devlin who had gone to school with Jeraldine. She had changed . . . Jeraldine hadn’t . . .

‘As I said to Alexandra, I envisage making policy decisions that will affect . . . ’ came floating back on the breeze and Devlin grinned in spite of herself. Same old Jeraldine, same
old bullshit, I . . . I . . . I . . . it had always been ‘I’. She watched the other girl in her wine taffeta blouse and peach skirt swan into the hallowed portals of Brown Thomas.
Devlin had noticed she was wearing a wedding ring. Was it the tall skinny dark haired guy she used to date? The class wit had christened them Worzel Gummidge and Sally and it suited them!

Eighteen

The encounter left her feeling a little shaken and vulnerable. Was this how she would react when she met other people she knew? She was annoyed with herself for feeling like
this. I don’t have to justify myself to anybody. Anyone can make a mistake, she told herself fiercely, but from then on she confined her rambles to the north side of the city. There was less
likelihood of meeting any of the old crowd shopping in Henry Street or Moore Street. She grew to like this unfamiliar part of the city. It was friendlier, livelier, than its posher, more elegant
counterpart across the Liffey.

‘That’s a lovely chisler ye got there luv. D’ya want ta buy a few apples ’n’ oranges?’ one of the women behind the stalls asked her one day. The apples looked
lovely, big, bright, green, luscious globes that made Devlin’s mouth water. She hadn’t tasted a crisp juicy Granny Smith for years.

‘I’ll have a Granny Smith,’ she said taking out her purse. To her absolute mortification, she was five pence short, literally down to her last few coppers. It was the day
before payday. Scarlet, she murmured, ‘I don’t seem to have enough. Maybe tomorrow.’ Anxious to leave, she hastily shoved the buggy back towards Henry Street.

‘Wait a minute Missus!’ Devlin heard the woman call after her and, turning, she saw her putting apples and oranges into a bag. ‘Here luv, take ’em. It’s getting
late an’ I won’t be able sell ’em all, an’ sure what good will dey be doin me rottin away an’ all?’ She saw Devlin hesitating. ‘G’wan luv, take
’em an enjoy ’em.’

‘Th . . . thanks very much,’ stuttered Devlin.

‘Yer very welcome,’ said the kindly old lady, smiling as she chucked Lynn under the chin. They were the nicest Granny Smiths Devlin had ever eaten, and she munched her way through
two of them before reaching the hostel. Some people were really kind, she told Mairead, another unmarried mother who lived in the hostel.

‘Hmm . . . they are few and far between, believe me,’ the other girl replied cynically but she smiled as she took one of the oranges Devlin offered her.

There were girls from all backgrounds in the hostel but the turnover was constant as they either left or were rehoused. If only the precious letter would arrive to tell her she had a flat, she
wouldn’t feel so unsettled. Anything had to be better than life in a hostel. Her father was still under the impression she was in London, but after her first week in the hostel, Devlin rang
Caroline, making her promise not to tell Maggie that she was back until she had her flat.

Excitedly they arranged to meet. Caroline had been married since early spring and they were living in Richard’s apartment in Clontarf. She had written regularly to Devlin and had been
terribly upset that Devlin couldn’t make it to the wedding. Devlin had been distressed and felt that she was letting her friend down but there was nothing she could do about it; she simply
couldn’t afford it. It was well over a year since they had last seen each other and Devlin was dying to meet her. They had so much news and gossip to catch up on. When they did meet, Devlin
was surprised at the change in her friend.