Rose of Tralee (35 page)

‘That was real generous, real nice o’ the gal,’ her mother said. ‘An’ she wouldn’t tek no money, queen? Well, that’s a right good Christmas box if you ask me. It looked awright, from what I saw.’

‘I offered to pay but Mr Garnett told me no need, she were glad to be rid of it,’ Rose said happily. ‘It’s what I’ve wanted most, as you know. Oh, I know it had flat tyres an’ no pump, an’ the brakes was a bit rusty, but the fellers in the office give a hand in their dinner-hour an’ now it’s fit to ride. Or would be if I
could
ride,’ she amended.

‘Well, you’re young and you’ll learn easily,’ Mrs Kibble said. ‘Ah, I hear footsteps.’

‘They’re back!’ Mrs Ryder said, beginning to mash the potatoes with some butter and a dash of milk. ‘Mek the gravy in the pan, Rosie me love, then we’ll eat as soon as the fellers have washed up. An’ after, you can see about lessons on that there bicycle. Pity it’s dark, but they may be able to rig up a light in the yard. Or you could try the street – the gaslights mek it bright enough for bicycling, I dessay. But let’s get this meal on the go, ladies!’

Colm thought afterwards that you never knew what fate had in store for you. Certainly, when Mrs Ryder had been telling them about the bicycle, which had been given to her daughter, it had not occurred to him that his life would be changed by it. Far from it, in fact. He had only volunteered to help Rose to learn to ride because, shamingly, he thought that Mona
might come along too, either to learn as well or to watch.

Well, he had been right about her joining them, because on that first evening the four of them, himself, Rose, Tommy and Mona, all assembled, with the bicycle, in the road in front of the house. They had tried the jigger first, but it was too narrow, too uneven and also too dark, so they had gone round to the Vale, guessing that there would be neither traffic nor people around on such a cold night. However, though it was windy still, the rain clouds had cleared and a moon lit the scene with its frosty light. Furthermore, of course, the gas-lamps cast their warm glow, so when he began to instruct Rose in the art of mounting the bicycle it was possible for her both to hear his words and to see his actions.

‘Show her yourself, Colm,’ Mona urged, so Colm lowered the bicycle seat with one of his own spanners so that Rose could sit in the saddle and still not lose contact with the ground, and showed her how to mount the female way, how to lean the bicycle so that she could get into the saddle without losing control and how to coast, with her toes touching the road surface, to give herself a sense of balance.

Rose was all excited, pink-cheeked and smiling. Like a very nice child, Colm found himself thinking as he hung on to the carrier above the back mudguard to prevent her from falling to one side or the other. She was a quick learner, too, and though he intended to keep the saddle down until she was more expert, he could see that, with help and practice, she would soon be cycling to work.

The lesson turned out to be fun, too, and though it was indeed a cold night, they both began to warm up very nicely, Colm by running alongside the bicycle
keeping Rose upright and Rose from the exertion of pedalling, swaying perilously and occasionally, despite Colm’s best efforts, falling off.

After a bit, however, the audience tired and sloped off indoors – or Colm supposed that was where they had gone. But strangely enough, he found that he no longer cared at all whether they stayed or left. He was having fun! Rose was sweet, falling off the bike several times into his very arms and clinging round his neck, laughing, panting and thanking him breathlessly as he hoisted her back into the saddle, until Colm suddenly realised that he was quite looking forward to her next tumble. She was a cuddly armful, with her breath soft against his cheek and her laughter trembling on her lips, even as she exclaimed over the various pains of a pedal in the calf, a cracked ankle or a grazed knee.

So when she suddenly managed to pedal a few feet without falling off he was quite sorry and put the saddle up, telling her with mock severity that if she insisted on being so good at bicycling he’d have to make it more difficult for her.

‘You’re mean, Colm O’Neill,’ Rose said, smiling up at him, her eyes very blue in the soft lamplight and her lips very rosy. ‘You want to see me take a real tumble, don’t you.’

‘No indeed, nothing is further from me thoughts,’ he assured her. ‘Tell you what, Rosie, let’s make it easier for you. If you can ride along as far as the next lamp-post without falling off, you’re safe, but if you fall you’ll have to give me a great big kiss, so you will.’

She had been laughing; now she stopped, looking up at him consideringly. ‘If I fall I’ve got to kiss you; is that the bargain?’

‘Yup,’ Colm said, secure in the knowledge that, between the two lamp-posts, a grid in the gutter would make at least a wobble a certainty. ‘That’ll keep you on the straight an’ narrow.’

‘It will,’ Rose said, hoisting herself back into the saddle with great determination. ‘Gi’s a push to get me goin’, then.’

‘Well, I don’t know whether I should . . . that’s helpin’ you, which isn’t in me best interests,’ Colm said, then helped her into the saddle – she still could not mount alone now that the saddle had been hoisted higher – and held her against him for a very enjoyable moment whilst she got her balance. ‘Still, one little push ... off wit’ you now!’

The bicycle wobbled furiously, then righted itself and Rose began cautiously pedalling towards the next lamp-post.

‘It’s grand you’re doin’, me little darlin’,’ Colm said encouragingly, trotting along behind her. ‘Oh, was that a wobble, now? Are ye goin’ to tipple over sideways just to please me?’

‘You’d be best pl-pleased if I showed you I could do it, then you could go in an’ ... an’ sit by the fire wi’ Mona,’ Rose said in a breathless and wobbly voice. ‘Only another couple o’ yards . . . there! What about that then, me friend?’

She had reached the lamp-post just as the bicycle swerved, bucked like a horse seeing a dog under its feet and tipped her unceremoniously onto the pavement.

Colm ran forward, plucked her from the paving stones and, with her snug in his arms, bent his head and fastened his lips on hers. Rose gave a mutter of protest, a wriggle like a landed fish . . . then she was responding, kissing him back, her arms winding
themselves sweetly about his neck even as her body swayed closer against his.

Carried away, Colm lifted her off her feet and kissed her once more, long and hard, then stood her down. They gazed at one another in the lamplight, both more than a little breathless. Finally, after a moment, Rose said in a small voice: ‘You cheated, Colm O’Neill. You said I’d have to kiss you if I fell off before I reached the lamp-post and I got there!’

‘So you did. An’ didn’t I make it plain that if you
did
get there, wit’out fallin’ off, then I’d kiss you, so I would? Surely you realised?’

Rose giggled and punched him on the arm. Colm hissed in his breath and pretended to clutch his muscle, though he had scarcely felt the blow. ‘You’re a trojan,’ he declared. ‘Well, since there seems to have been a ... a misunderstandin’, I’ll say it clear as clear this time. If you can cycle back to the other lamp-post wit’out fallin’ off, then I’ll kiss you. But if you fall then you’ll kiss me. Is that fair or isn’t it?’

Rose giggled again and picked up the bicycle, then prepared to mount. ‘That seems fair enough,’ she said, and Colm heard the little shake in her voice and saw the way she looked at him, shyly but with a sort of trembling anticipation, and realised that he was seeing her as if for the first time. She had shed her heavy coat and thick scarf, and in the lamplight her dark curls framed a rosy and delightful face. How could he ever have thought her less than beautiful, he marvelled, with that creamy skin and those big, dark-blue eyes? And what had got into him to look past her to Mona, with her peroxided hair, her bold glance and her painted lips and cheeks? Why Rose was the prettiest, sweetest girl in the world and he ... he was the luckiest feller alive.

‘Off I go then . . . gi’s a push, Colm,’ Rose urged, and Colm launched her and then trotted alongside until she stopped, triumphant, under the lamp-post. ‘Well? How’d I do, Colm? I’ll be ridin’ to work after the weekend, I betcha.’

‘You will so,’ Colm agreed. He took the bicycle from her and leaned it against the lamp-post, then stood close, gazing down at her, and found himself breathing heavily. ‘Now was it me to kiss you, or you to kiss me? I can’t remember which way round it was for the life of me.’

‘Does it matter?’ Rose said. She looped her arms round his neck and held up her face, the lips slightly parted, looking as tempting and delicious as anything Colm had ever seen. ‘I’m almost sure you’re goin’ to kiss me, whichever way round it was.’

‘So I am, alanna,’ Colm said. He pulled her close and slowly, slowly, lowered his head until their lips met – and clung, he thought wonderingly, as though they had been lovers for years. She was wonderful, this Rosie Ryder – why in God’s sweet name hadn’t he realised it weeks and weeks ago?

When, presently, they pulled apart, he said as much. ‘We’ve been wastin’ our lives, so we have,’ he told her. ‘When we could have been doin’ this every night o’ the week. Well, I hope you don’t t’ink that now you can ride a bicycle you’re safe from me kisses, for you are no such t’ing, Rose Ryder. Will you come to the flickers wit’ me tomorrer night, an’ sit an’ cuddle in the back row of the stalls?’

‘Certainly not,’ Rose said with dignity. ‘Well, I’ll come to the cinema wi’ you, Colm, an’ thank you kindly, but ... but ...’

‘But what?’

‘Well . . . you don’t
arrange
to kiss and cuddle, it
either comes . . . comes natural, or it doesn’t happen at all. And you ... you’re awful, that’s what you are!’

‘I’m sorry, alanna,’ Colm said penitently. ‘Sure an’ you’re right. I’ll put it another way. Will you come wit’ me to the flickers tomorrow night? I’ll buy you chocolates an’ treat you like a queen, so I will.’

‘Well, I don’t know,’ Rose said slowly. ‘It’s one thing to learn me to ride a bicycle an’ quite another to go to the cinema together. How do I know you really want to, and aren’t bein’ ... bein’ carried away, sort of?’

She was trying to appear offended, but all she sounded was very young and very sweet. ‘Put your coat on, and your scarf, or you’ll catch your death now that we’re not leppin’ up and down,’ Colm said, and helped her into it, then donned his own, which he had laid carefully down on top of hers on the low garden wall. Then he put a casual arm round her and began to wheel the bicycle along the pavement, turning into the jigger when he reached it, and reflecting that the hour must be late and he had no desire for Mrs Ryder to pop out to see how they were getting along, and surprise them kissing instead of cycling demurely up and down.

Rose turned in his arm and smiled up at him, a grin full of mischief. ‘But I thought it was Mona you were after,’ she said innocently. ‘She was tellin’ me only last week ...’

Colm had his arm round her waist; now he squeezed her and also gave her a playful shake. ‘She’s a fine-lookin’ girl, your cousin. I t’ought she was a real dazzler, but that was before I’d really looked twice at yourself, you see. Sure an’ havin’ had you in me arms, I’d no sooner go out wit’ another girl than fly to the moon. I’m wonderin’, now, whether the eyes in me head have been lookin’ inward ’stead o’
out, these past weeks.’

‘Pretty talk,’ Rose said as they crossed the jigger and Colm had to let go of her whilst he opened the back gate and pushed her bicycle through. ‘But pretty talk butters no parsnips, as me dad used to say. Besides, you’ve only seen me by lamplight. Wait till you see me proper, in the kitchen, wi’ me old brown coat an’ me shabby boots. Then you’ll likely think again.’

Colm wheeled the bicycle into the small shed, locked the door and offered her the key. ‘Think again, would I so?’ he said scoffingly. ‘For it’s not your old brown coat nor your shabby boots that I’ll be lookin’ at, alanna. ‘Tis your pretty face and lovely lips that hold my attention.’

‘Oh, cream-pot talk,’ Rose said. ‘Last one in makes up the kitchen fire an’ brews the cocoa.’ And she set off across the yard without waiting and shot through the back kitchen door as though the devil were after her, Colm thought, pursuing, and grabbing at the collar of her coat so that they entered the kitchen together, laughing and breathless.

There was no sign of Mona or of Tommy, but Mrs Ryder and Mrs Kibble were sitting one on either side of the fire, comfortably knitting. They both looked up as the young people appeared and Mrs Ryder put her work down and rose to her feet. ‘Has me daughter broke your neck an’ her own knees, or are you still both in one piece, Colm?’ she enquired cheerfully. ‘For ’tis no easy thing to ride a bicycle when you start in to learn by gaslight. It must be rare cold out there, too. Will you have a cup of cocoa and some biscuits before you go off to bed?’

‘We’re all in one piece, Mam,’ Rose said, a little selfconsciously Colm thought. ‘And I’d love cocoa and
biscuits; what about you, Colm?’

‘That’ll be grand, Mrs Ryder,’ Colm said gratefully. ‘As for your daughter, she’ll be ridin’ to work in a week, so she will.’

‘Not if there’s frosts, or snow,’ Mrs Ryder said firmly, pulling the kettle over the fire. ‘Nor fog, neither.’

‘No, not if the weather’s bad,’ Rose allowed. ‘But when the spring comes I’ll be able to bike every day and save me tram fare. To say nothin’ of the time I’ll save hangin’ about at tram stops.’

‘I t’ought I might get me a bike too, wit’ the money I’ve been puttin’ away,’ Colm said thoughtfully as the steaming mugs of cocoa were placed on the table by the open biscuit tin. ‘For there’s more to a bicycle than savin’ time an’ tram fares. You can have a deal o’ fun, so you can. Trips into the country, further down the coast ... if there’s two of you, that is,’ he finished.

Mrs Ryder looked at him and at Rose. Then she smiled, ‘Well, well!’ she said. ‘Wonders will never cease.’

‘What d’you mean, Mam?’ Rose said suspiciously, with heightened colour. ‘Why are you grinnin’ like that?’

‘Oh, nothin’, just me thoughts,’ her mother said airily. ‘Another biscuit, Colm? No? Then it’s about time I got me hot-water bottle an’ made for me bed.’