Mother’s Only Child (53 page)

And then the strains of the Wedding March could be heard. Maria retrieved the baby from Martha and slipped into place in the pew as Patsy pulled the veil over her face and, with her arm in Sean’s, began the slow walk down the aisle.

The girls were beautiful, and it was odd to see Jack looking so angelic, his face without his usual impish grin as he concentrated very hard on not treading on the bride’s train. But the star of the day was Patsy. True happiness shone out of her with such radiance that it almost hurt to look. As Patsy neared Andrew, standing resolute beside his best friend, he turned and saw his bride approaching. Maria felt an actual pang in her
heart at the expression on his face. No man but one had looked at her in such a way and that man she had lost. Maybe such love only comes once in a lifetime.

Martha had made the three-tiered cake, so glad the rationing had ended and that eggs and dried fruit were a little more plentiful.

‘Do you remember my cake?’ she said wistfully as she gazed at her creation at the reception.

Maria hoisted the baby up in her arms and nodded. From a distance, it had looked similar to Patsy’s and close up you saw that the bottom two tiers were of cardboard, because there hadn’t been the ingredients available for any more than the smallest tier.

‘So many things were a headache then,’ Martha said. ‘This cake was a delight to make.’

‘And I’m sure will taste delicious,’ Maria said. ‘You are a terrific cook.’

Martha laughed. ‘Is this the complimentary club, for if it is I will have to say, you are a first-rate designer and dressmaker. Patsy’s dress is a masterpiece. I think it is a bloody shame you were never able to take up that course in Dublin all those years ago.’

Maria made a face. ‘Water under the bridge,’ she said. ‘I always think regret is a wasted emotion, and really there was no other option open to me at the time. The worst mistake I ever made was in marrying Barney, and that was brought home quite forcibly today.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘All this is important,’ she said, her one free hand sweeping around the room. ‘It’s grand to wear a beautiful dress and all, but there is nothing tops the love that
sparked between those two young people today, a love that will sustain them over the years and help them cope with all that life throws at people. I never felt at one like that with Barney.’

Martha knew that full well, but before she could say anything, Maria seemed to give herself a mental shake. ‘But this is a wedding, not a wake. Doom and gloom are strictly forbidden. I will see if his lordship here will take a nap in the pram in the foyer and then I can circulate with the best of them.’

There were a great many people invited to the wedding—Andrew’s family, of course, and flatmates, special friends and some people from the church. But there were people not invited who might have got invitations at one time. They were those so quick to believe that Sean was guilty of Barney’s death that they snubbed the family quite openly, often crossing the road to avoid them.

When Sean was released without charge, these folk were some of the first to say they always knew he was innocent of any crime, for wasn’t he a fine, well-respected man. Martha despised them, and though she was polite if they spoke to her, it was an icy politeness. She made it plain she would never seek or welcome their friendship and Maria didn’t blame her one bit.

All in all, though, the reception was quite enjoyable. Eventually Martin, though he protested at first, as a matter of form, did agree to give in and, with a huge sigh, curled on his side in the pram, his thumb in his mouth. Maria’s sigh was equally heartfelt and she went back into the hall as her small son’s eyes fluttered shut.

She was introduced to Andrew’s parents and his two
younger brothers, whom she found to be very pleasant, and she warmed to them greatly as they told her how delightful her children were—her beautiful daughters and such a dear little boy. Jack, she saw, was stealing the show. He looked adorable and, because he was naturally extrovert, he was playing to an audience he instinctively sensed would find him amusing.

‘That lad will go far,’ Sean said suddenly, appearing by her side. ‘He has the ability to read reaction at his tender age.’

‘You don’t think I should stop him, tell him to behave?’

‘You might as well tell the sun to stop shining,’ Sean said with a grin. ‘And why would you do that anyway? No one is offended. Relax. Enjoy yourself and let the children be.’

After that, the day was just wonderful and Maria enjoyed herself as she couldn’t remember doing in a long time. Many complimented her on the dresses when they had found out she had made them, particularly Patsy’s, which was described as a work of art.

There was a lull in the late afternoon while the debris from the meal was cleared away and the room rearranged for the dancing that evening. Deirdre had asked about this one day as she watched her mother and Patsy write out the invitations.

‘Why are some people coming to the day and night, and others only coming for the night?’

‘The day time is for close friends and family, mainly,’ Patsy said. ‘The evening is for other friends, work colleagues, people like that.’

‘So could I invite friends if I liked?’

Patsy laughed. ‘How many friends? I’m not having the whole class.’

Deirdre looked indignant. ‘As if I would invite them all,’ she said scornfully. ‘Half of them are boys anyway, and horrid.’

‘Well, who then?’

‘Just Shirley and her sister, Anna.’

‘Shirley? Isn’t she that new friend of yours?’

‘Yeah, mine and Sally’s. They’re nice and, anyway, I feel sorry for them. Go on, Patsy, say I can ask them?’

‘All right.’ Patsy said. ‘I dare say it will do no harm to invite them over for the evening.’

Maria wasn’t staying for the evening do. She was going home with Jack and Martin. Sean and Martha were taking Sally and Theresa home with their own, and topping and tailing them for the night with Deirdre. Maria waited only until she had seen Patsy and Andrew drive off in the car that Andrew’s friends had decorated well for him, with all variety of things tied to the back, before getting herself and the children ready to leave.

Tony was to take her home, though she protested that there was no need, and she was in the hall as Shirley and Anna came in. She caught a glimpse of the man she presumed to be the girls’ father standing outside.

‘Good evening,’ she said automatically, but didn’t look at him, as she was in the act of lifting Jack up onto the pram. She remembered that the man had no wife waiting for at home so, as she settled Jack, she went on, ‘You can go in too, you know. No one will mind.’

The man didn’t answer for a moment or two. Then: ‘Maria,’ he said tentatively. ‘Maria, is that really you?’

Maria felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach. She turned slowly and knew she was staring at a man she never thought she would ever see again. He looked older. Lines of strain were on his face, though his beautiful eyes were just the same, and these were fastened on her.

She said, almost questioningly, as if she couldn’t quite believe it, ‘Greg? Greg Hopkins?’

‘God Almighty, Maria,’ Greg said. ‘This is marvellous, wonderful. Can we talk or do you hate me still?’

‘I never hated you,’ Maria said. ‘Believe me. I was full of hurt and disappointment, but never hate.’

‘Then, can we talk?’

Maria was flustered and didn’t really know how to react, but one thing she was sure of was that she didn’t want this man just to walk out of her life again. But she had the children to attend to. ‘I…I must get the children home,’ she said.

‘Where’s home?’

‘We live on the Pype Hayes estate.’

‘That’s quite a hike from here.’

‘No, it’s all right,’ Maria said. ‘It’s a fine warm evening and I’m not going alone. Tony is coming with me. He’s Uncle Sean’s stepson. You mind my Uncle Sean?’ At Greg’s nod she went on, ‘He married a widow and she had three children. They live in Arthur Road.’

Maria was aware she was gabbling and told herself to stop. Greg was smiling the smile she knew so well, which sparkled in his eyes too, just as if he was aware of her discomfort.

‘See,’ he said, putting his hand over hers on the pram handle, ‘there is so much I need to catch up on.
Can I walk down with you? I’d like you to fill me in on what has happened to you since that terrible day when I caused you so much anguish that my parents effectively cut me off from the family.’

‘Do you still not speak?’ Maria said, surprised ‘One of your sisters told me you had become estranged from your parents after we split up, but I never imagined it would go on this long.’

Greg gave a rueful smile. ‘That is one of the things I’ll tell you about if you’ll let me.’

Tony came out of the hall then, flustered and with the stain of scarlet lips on his cheek. ‘Sorry, Maria,’ he said. ‘A girl grabbed me for a dance and wouldn’t take no for an answer.’

‘Did you want to say no?’

Tony gave a grin. ‘Not really.’

‘Then go on back to her,’ Maria said, and as Tony lifted his hand in protest she said, ‘Tell Sean I have met an old friend, someone I used to know in Moville, and he will walk home with me.’

‘You sure?’

‘I’m positive,’ Maria said, and added with a smile, ‘Go on. Get in there before she starts dancing with someone else.’

‘Thank you,’ Greg said.

‘It’s all right,’ Maria said, manoeuvring the pram outside. ‘Like I said to Tony, we are old friends.’ But she thought to herself, few old friends would set my heart thumping in this uncomfortable way.

‘More than mere friends surely, Maria?’ Greg said, glancing at her as they walked away from the hall.

‘Aye, maybe, but for a short time only.’ Maria said.
‘And it was many years ago,’ and she quickened her pace.

Greg couldn’t think of a reply to that and in the silence between them he glanced at her again. She didn’t seem to have aged a day. Her hair was still as vibrant, her eyes seemed greener than ever and they were shining. She seemed full of vitality and happiness, but he saw that she wore a ring, so he knew he couldn’t take any relationship further than friendship. Maria had been right to check him.

The silence between them might have got uncomfortable, for neither of them felt they could break it, if it hadn’t been for Jack. Although he was tired and was glad to be sitting up on the pram, he had been playing to the gallery for most of the day and wasn’t used to being ignored. He smiled at Greg and said, ‘My name’s Jack. What’s yours?’

Greg looked at the child, in his crumpled and stained pageboy’s outfit, his dicky bow somewhere under his ear, his knees grubby and his unruly hair no longer even semi tamed, and he said with a smile, ‘My name is Greg, and you look as if you have had a good time.’

‘I have,’ Jack said, and added proudly, ‘I ate mountains of cake and stuff. No one seemed to mind.’

‘I shall mind, young man, if you are sick tonight,’ Maria said sharply.

Jack ignored that and addressed himself to Greg again. ‘Have you got any little boys?’

‘No, I’m afraid I haven’t,’ Greg said. He glanced in the pram, but Martin was fast asleep, and so he asked, ‘Is your baby a boy or a girl?’

‘A boy,’ Jack said. ‘He’s called Martin and he ain’t
no good for playing with yet. He’s too little and he cries a lot. Mommy says he’ll get better. I got two sisters too.’ Here he stopped and made a face, before conceding, ‘They’re OK, but they keep trying to push me round and tell me what to do and that.’

Greg laughed out loud. ‘I bet they are on a losing wicket with you.’

‘You’re not kidding,’ Maria said under her breath as Jack burst out, ‘What does a losing wicket mean?’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Maria said.

‘Uncle Sean said it’s good to ask questions,’ Jack said. ‘It’s how people learn, he says.’

Maria sighed. ‘Uncle Sean doesn’t have to put up with you all day and every day. Give Greg a rest or he will begin to wish he had never asked to walk home with us.’

‘No, Maria,’ Greg said. ‘I would never do that.’

‘See, he don’t care,’ Jack said.

‘OK,’ Maria said. ‘Maybe Greg doesn’t mind, but I do. Be quiet, for pity’s sake, and give us a bit of peace.’

Jack was a bright boy and he knew when his mother spoke in a certain way, it was best to do as she said. He contented himself with swinging his legs, a look of injured indignation on his face that caused Greg to bite his bottom lip to prevent a smile that he thought Maria probably wouldn’t approve of.

Maria sighed in relief as they turned in Woodacre Road. ‘Not long now.’

‘You should have let me push the pram,’ Greg said. ‘It must be heavy with the two of them.’

‘No, really,’ Maria said. ‘And it is all downhill. I’m
just jiggered. I’ve been on the go all day and I need a chance to put my feet up and get certain people to bed.’

‘She means me,’ Jack said to Greg knowingly. ‘Mommy always says things like that when she means me.’

‘Jack, I’m warning you.’

‘I’m just telling Greg…‘

‘Well, don’t. He doesn’t want to hear you,’ Maria said, and went on before Jack could leap in with anything else, ‘You lived in Aston before, didn’t you, Greg?’

‘Yeah, all through the war we did,’ Greg said. ‘Nancy lived with her parents till I was demobbed, and Aston took a pasting. At times, I was more worried about Nancy and Anna than myself.’

‘I know,’ Maria said. ‘I wasn’t here through those times, but Martha, the widow Uncle Sean married, had her family near wiped out.’

‘I can well believe it.’

‘Where do you live now?’

‘Holly Lane,’ Greg said. ‘The top end, near the convent.’

‘They are big houses there,’ Maria said surprised. ‘Expensive too. Won the pools, have you?’

‘Not quite,’ Greg told her with a smile. ‘Like I say, Nancy lived with her parents. She saved and so did I, and with my gratuity after my demob, we were able to rustle up enough for a deposit on a small house. Nancy wanted to stay in the same area. Her father was a bruiser of a man and a bully into the bargain. I tell you, no one shed a tear when he dropped dead just a year after we moved out, but Nancy was real
close to her mother. She was all right, the mother, although quite timid at times—I should imagine the husband made her that way—and frail-looking, like Nancy herself. She never really got over losing her son at Dunkirk, though she took pleasure in Anna, and then Shirley, of course.’ He smiled and went on, ‘Nancy chose their names. A bit fanciful for my tastes because Anna is really Annabel, and Shirley, as you might imagine, was called for Shirley Temple.’