Rainbow's End (53 page)

‘I ’member ’im wearin’ it,’ Dick put in suddenly. ‘Lor’, it’s nigh on twenty year since he died, but I ‘member it, glintin’ on ‘is ‘and when ’e played wi’ us.’ He looked down at his own broad, calloused hand, with a thin gold ring on the third finger. ‘Course, my Esther bought me a ring . . . it’s nice as it’s goin’ back to Ireland, Mam.’

Deirdre had been turning the ring over and over, and now she said curiously: ‘I wonder what the pattern means, Mam? Or is it a whole lot of capital Ms, all joined together?’

‘Likely it is, bein’ Irish,’ Ada said. ‘Pretty, ain’t it, done in a circle like that? Looks like a dandelion, a bit. Still, so long as it fits the bill . . .’

Ellen surveyed herself in the glass in her mother’s room. She was pale – but brides were always pale, weren’t they? She knew she loved Liam, that they were right for each other, and yet . . . and yet . . . she was going away from the city she loved and the people who loved her, with Liam, who wasn’t even related to her, and the twins, who could be such holy terrors. Was she doing the right thing? Had Mam been right to insist on their marrying before they left for Ireland? And now that she thought about it, it was all very well to say that she and Liam were right for each other. How did she know? She had never seen him in a temper, or doing an ordinary job of work, even. For all she knew he might grow violent when crossed! He might try to hit her! He might bully the twins, ill-treat the farm animals, drink too much . . .

These depressing reflections were interrupted by Deirdre, bouncing into the room with her red curls brushed into a flaming bush and her eyes snapping with temper. ‘Mam says I must plait me hair, an’ that bleedin’ Liam agrees wi’ her,’ she stormed. ‘I won’t plait me hair, I want it like Liza’s got hers! An’ Liza’s here, she arrived ten minutes ago . . . she’s gorra crown thing on top of her head . . . why can’t I have one o’ them?’

Immediately, all Ellen’s fears faded and looked as foolish as a candle flame in daylight. How could she ever have imagined, even for one moment, that Liam was anything but the dearest feller she’d ever known, the gentlest, the kindest? ‘You’re a little idiot, Dee Docherty,’ she said. ‘Liza’s gorra
coronet
, norra crown, an’ don’t you know how them coronet things is made? You pull all your hair to one side and plait it, and wind it round your head an’ fix it in place wi’ them artificial rosebuds we bought at Blacklers. Oh, come here, I’ll do it for you.’

‘Oh! Well, why didn’t they say?’ Deirdre grumbled. ‘Does I look awright, Ellie? Liam looks a treat – an’ you’re jus’ like a fairy princess . . . you look ever so much prettier than Liza did in that dress, honest to God you do.’

‘Thank you, queen,’ Ellen said, picking up her sister’s heavy fall of dark-red curls and beginning to braid them. ‘Now stay nice an’ still for me, an’ you’ll have one o’ them coronets in no time. Got the roses handy?’

‘No. I threw ’em down when Mam said I were to plait me hair,’ Deirdre admitted, going slightly pink. ‘Wonder who I’ll marry, Ellie? Ain’t it strange to think it’ll probably be an Irishman too – just like Liam, if I’m lucky.’

‘They broke the mould when they made Liam,’ Ellen said, smiling. ‘He’s the best, Dee. Aha . . . someone’s comin’ up the stairs . . . I’ll ask ’em to fetch up your roses.’

When the door opened it was Liza, standing framed in the doorway with her pink dress neatly buttoned and her hands full of white satin roses. She smiled at Ellen, then addressed herself to Deirdre. ‘I thought you’d be needin’ these, queen,’ she said gently. ‘It’s always the same on a weddin’ day – it was the same when Tolly an’ me got hitched – tempers fray an’ folk say things they’re sorry for, after. My, but your hair looks a treat done that way! And as soon as you’re ready we oughter be mekin’ our way – Tolly an’ Liam left just now, an’ Donny says his neck’ll bust clean out o’ that stiff collar if we don’t gerra move on. You ready?’

Deirdre, rendered sunny once more by a glimpse of herself in the mirror, said she was and Ellen followed her out of the room, suddenly full of eagerness to arrive at the church – and see Liam. It would be all right, she knew it would – and the sooner the knot was tied and they were man and wife the sooner she could prove it to herself.

She tripped lightly down the stairs and when, in the living-room, Dick offered her his arm she was able to smile up at him with perfect confidence.

‘Ready, queen?’ her brother said. ‘You’re a picture, Ellie Docherty – and it’s the last time I’ll call you that!’

‘I’m ready, Dickie,’ Ellen assured him. ‘In fact, I can’t wait!’

The wedding went off without a hitch and Deirdre, in her pale-green silk, was the life and soul of the reception. Partly, she thought, it was because this was in the nature of a farewell party and also because she and Donal were absolutely on fire to get to Ireland.

‘Me home’s nothin’ special,’ Liam had warned them. ‘Mammy’s put Ticky in with the twins so as to give us a room to ourselves. Donal will share wit’ Ticky and the twins, so he will, an’ he won’t mind that – they’ll git along just fine.’

‘An’ we shan’t be there long, shall we, Liam?’ Deirdre had said. ‘Only a few days. So Seamus an’ Garvan won’t be too put out be us.’

‘Seamus is an easygoin’ feller,’ Liam assured her. ‘An’ Garvan’s not so bad. Knowin’ me brother Garv, in fact, chance is he’ll be away from home anyway. Mammy telled me a while back that he was standin’ the markets and roamin’ about all over. Oh, we’ll all manage very well.

Deirdre was rather looking forward to meeting the twins. She was a twin herself and was interested to know how Garvan was taking Seamus’s being in love, for apparently he had a regular girl-friend and intended to marry her when they were old enough.

I don’t think I’d much like the thought of Donal marryin’ whiles I were still on me own, Deirdre told herself honestly. An’ we ain’t ’dentical twins. Still, if Garvan’s not there he’s not; there’s nothin’ I can do about it.

So when the time came to say goodbye to her brothers and to her mother, Deirdre shed tears and clung convulsively to Ada and promised that she would come back when ‘everything’s sorted’, but she wasn’t truly unhappy. Anticipation of what was to come was too strong – and besides, she was taking Donal and Ellen, her favourite people, with her.

They reached Dublin at four o’clock on a beautiful May afternoon and it was only then that Deirdre realised she was a foreigner in a foreign land, for all that this was a part of Great Britain. She occasionally had trouble in understanding Liam when he used a strange expression, but she speedily realised that the people in the street were speaking in a brogue so thick that it might have been a foreign tongue. As they crossed the River Liffey by the Wellington Bridge, and saw the wide quays crowded with people, she clutched Donal’s hand, pulling him back from the others for a moment.

‘Suppose us can’t understand a word they say, Donny?’ she said plaintively. ‘That feller shoutin’ his mackerel might as well be doin’ it in Dutch for all I could catch!’

‘Likely it’ll be worse in Clare,’ Donal said cheerfully, shaking her hand off his arm. ‘Don’t grab, Dee. No one’s goin’ to eat you.’

‘But I love to talk, Donny,’ Deirdre said, near to tears. ‘Likely they won’t understand me, either. Oh, I wish I’d never come!’

‘No you don’t, Donal said bracingly. ‘You just have to listen more careful, queen, and it’ll be the same for all of us, I reckon. Liam’s been mixin’ wi’ other British soldiers, an’ I reckon he’s had to calm his brogue down a bit to be understood. Don’t worry . . . an’ his mam works in a smart shop – you’ll understand her all right.’

‘Well, I just hope you’re right,’ Dee said, but she felt more cheerful. She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘You’ll stick by me, won’t you, though, Donny, when we reach the Nolans’ house? I won’t be scared if you do.’

Donal sighed exaggeratedly. ‘I’ll stick by you,’ he promised. ‘An’ in half an hour you’ll be wantin’ me to leave you alone so you can gossip wi’ someone.’

Content on that score, Deirdre hurried to catch up with the others once more, then tugged Liam’s sleeve. ‘What’s that, Liam?’

‘It’s the castle,’ Liam said briefly, following her pointing finger. ‘I wish you could see O’Connell Street . . . but it’s not on our way and the bags are heavy. Dublin’s a small city compared wit’ Liverpool, but it’s a grand place, so it is. I’ll show you round tomorrow, we’ll tek a tram ride, go to Phoenix Park and buy ice-creams, go round the markets . . . oh aye, we’re not here for long so we must mek the best of what time we have.’

‘That’ll be nice,’ Deirdre said obediently, though she thought that so far Dublin did not seem particularly exciting. After all, she’d known Princes Park all her life and could not imagine anything much bigger or better. ‘Is it far to Claymore Alley now, Liam?’

‘No,’ Liam said briefly. ‘This is Parliament Street and when we get to the castle we turn into Lord Edward Street and then sort of twist our way through the Liberties until we’re home.’

‘Parly! Like at home,’ Donal said. ‘What d’you call it, Liam?’

Ellen, listening, laughed. ‘Dubliners don’t shorten everything like we do, chuck,’ she said. ‘They call it Parliament Street!’

The twins laughed too, but their bags were heavy and Deirdre at any rate, shifting her load from one hand to the other, was only half interested in her surroundings. She had been surprised that the buildings which lined the Liffey were neither huge nor impressive, like the Liver Building back home, but she was prepared to accept that Dublin was different. And meanwhile, she would be very glad to find herself at the Nolans’ home so that she could put down her burden, slump in a chair and have a nice cup of tea.

‘This is Corn Market,’ Liam said presently. ‘And ahead of us, on the right, is our church, the one we’d have married in, Ellen, if we’d decided to tie the knot over here. It’s on Thomas Street, but we’re quicker to turn down Francis Street, right here, and cut through. There, now we’re nearly home!’

Ellen did not know quite what she had expected, but she was pleasantly surprised once they reached the Nolans’ home. Before then, however, she had been a little amazed at the number of dirty, ill-clad children playing around the tenements and back streets. Neither Evangelist Court nor Mere Lane was exactly upper class, but most of the children were better dressed and cleaner than these little ones.

She did not say this to Liam, but he must have guessed what she was thinking, for he took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. ‘It’s spring and we’re mortal short o’ dacint housin’,’ he said under his breath. ‘Folk sleep more to a room here than they do your way . . . I did warn ye! But you’ll see that the kids are well nourished for the most part, an’ the women send ’em to school dressed as well as they can afford. It’s just when they’re playin’ that boots an’ good clothes get took off ’em.’

But then they reached Claymore Alley and the tall house with its small, square entrance. Liam hurried them up the stairs and opened a door . . . and they were there!

The door led straight into a kitchen, a large room with a bright fire burning in spite of the warmth of the day. A woman was arranging cups on the large wooden table in the centre of the room and she looked up and smiled as they came in. ‘Liam! Sure an’ didn’t I t’ink you’d be along soon, if the ship docked when she usually does, and isn’t it a fine day now and not the sort of day to hold up a sailin’?’ she demanded, her face brightening into a smile. ‘Come an’ give me a kiss, son . . . and this’ll be . . .’ She stared at Ellen for a moment, then a hand flew to her heart. ‘Dear God, and aren’t you—’ she broke off, then resumed with an obvious effort. ‘Aren’t you just the sort of pretty girl I’ve always wanted me son to marry? Ellen, welcome to your home!’

She was a pretty, dark-haired woman with a neat figure and she was wearing a russet-brown dress with a pearly brooch at the V of the neck. She kissed Liam, then Ellen, and Ellen, who had secretly dreaded this moment, was aware of a warmth and friendliness emanating from her mother-in-law. She was also aware that she had in some way been a shock to Mrs Nolan. Smiling, admiring the large, airy kitchen, telling Mrs Nolan about their journey, she wondered whether the older woman had assumed that she would be blonde, or plumper, or even younger or older. But it was pointless to worry; she would find out in the fullness of time if she asked the right questions.

As soon as they had put their bags down and been properly introduced, Mrs Nolan insisted that they go through to the parlour, a room so beautifully furnished and so immaculately kept that Ellen actually gasped. Mrs Nolan, clearly very proud of her room, fairly beamed at her. ‘I’ve always kept the youngsters out of me parlour, until they was growed, that is,’ she said. ‘But when we have the ceilidh to welcome you tomorrer, alanna, we’ll open it up and have half the world in. Ah, here’s Liam’s little brother. Ticky, come and be introduced, me son.’

Ticky beamed at them all, kissed Liam moistly on the cheek and came towards Ellen when his mother bade him, only to pause, looking up at her with wide eyes. ‘Mammy, isn’t she the image of our Maggie?’ he said. ‘Just like I ’member her – an’ just like the photy you’ve got standin’ below the Holy picture in your room!’

So
that
was it, Ellen realised, remembering the photograph which Liam had once showed her. He had told her about Maggie, who had worked for his mammy, who had been going to marry him . . . but it had been ages ago, when they had first met; she’d not thought about that Maggie – or their resemblance – for years.

‘’Tis only the hair,’ Mrs Nolan said hurriedly. ‘An’ mebbe the shape of the face . . .’ She turned to Ellen. ‘Forgive us, alanna, but at first glance, you know, it was quite a shock.’

‘It’s all right, Mrs Nolan,’ Ellen said quickly. ‘I remember now, Liam showed me a photograph taken on a beach somewhere of himself and his . . . his friend. We both thought there was a likeness.’

‘’Tis just the hair,’ Mrs Nolan said again, adding: ‘And now I’ll get some tay and soda bread; you must be t’irsty, all of ye, after that long journey.’