The Winter Sea (27 page)

Desperate-looking women clutching children asked for money to buy food. As he walked on, Joe saw a long queue and realised that there must be a soup kitchen nearby. He knew how well-off he must look and his heart twisted in sympathy for the people in the queue. It was not so long ago that he had been poor. But despite the poverty on his island, his family had always had something to eat, even if it was just weeds and nettles collected from the hillside and made into a broth.

Joe trudged on, his head down, avoiding eye contact with anyone. He passed a partially demolished building, which he could see was being used as a shelter by those with nowhere else to go.

He turned to cross the street and from the corner of his eye he saw the figure of a woman hurrying down the road. Head down, she was hunched into her coat, which had definitely seen better days. A knitted beret was squashed onto her hair. She looked like many of the other people he had seen at this end of town, but something about her caused Joe to give her a second glance.

He caught his breath, stopped, then spun around and began to run after her. He knew who she was. No one else had a head of red curls like that. He could barely manage to get out the name that was burned into his heart.

‘Bridie?’

She jerked as if slapped, threw a swift glance over her shoulder and quickly hurried on.

In two strides he was beside her, spinning her around to face him.

‘Bridie, it’s me, Joe, Giuseppe. Is it really you?’

‘Giuseppe, is that you? You look very well.’ There was little warmth in Bridie’s voice. She spoke as though he was no more than an acquaintance.

Well, thought Joe, maybe after all this time, that is all I am.

‘Bridie, let me buy you a cup of tea,’ he said. ‘I want to talk to you, find out what you’ve been doing.’ As he took her arm, he could feel her thinness through the worn fabric of her coat. He knew that things were not good for Bridie.

She pulled her arm away. ‘I’m sorry but I can’t spare the time.’

‘Bridie, a cup of tea for old times’ sake, surely, and you can tell me all about yourself.’

Suddenly Bridie’s eyes filled with tears.

‘Oh, Giuseppe, you were always so kind to me, but I think by the look of you that we have travelled very different paths. You look so, well, prosperous.’

‘I’ve been very lucky, but perhaps you have not.’

Suddenly Bridie looked at Joe in defiance. ‘I haven’t, and you can’t possibly understand, so I think that it’s best if we forget this meeting.’

Joe stared at her. ‘Forget you? I have never forgotten you for one day since you walked away from me, and I will not let you disappear again. You must tell me what has happened to you. Besides, aren’t you interested in what I’ve been doing?’ he added, hoping that Bridie’s curiosity would get the better of her.

‘That would be unkind of me, wouldn’t it?’ she said with a faint smile.

They found a small tea shop and Joe ordered a pot of tea for two, even though he didn’t usually drink tea, as well as a plate of scones, which he didn’t eat, but thought Bridie would enjoy.

They were served quickly and as Bridie began to pour the tea, Joe asked, ‘So, you married Ronan?’

With a shudder, Bridie broke down completely and sobbed.

Joe handed her his handkerchief and Bridie wiped her eyes. ‘Have something to eat,’ Joe suggested. ‘And when you can, tell me what happened.’

Bridie sniffed and took a bite of scone. ‘These are delicious. I hadn’t realised how hungry I was. Yes, I married him. He was a good man, but not a very strong one. He tried lots of jobs, but they never seemed to last. When we had our son Patrick, Ronan tried even harder, but the work was always too hard, too physical. He used to go down to the wharves and queue up to get a day’s work, but the foremen knew him and knew that labouring work was beyond him, so they didn’t employ him. Gradually, we lost everything. We moved from place to place, avoiding paying our rent if we could. Oh, Giuseppe, I felt like a criminal, but once Patrick came, what else could we do?’

‘My poor Bridie. If only I had known, I would have helped you.’

‘Giuseppe, I had no idea what had happened to you or where you were, so I couldn’t ask.’

Joe glanced at her worn coat. ‘Does Ronan have a job at present?’ he asked gently.

‘He died about two years ago. He got pneumonia and even though the hospital did their best, they couldn’t save him.’

‘So now you are even worse off?’

‘In a funny way I’m not. I get the widows’ pension, which isn’t much, but it’s more than Ronan and I sometimes had and, together with the child endowment, I manage. I’ve got a room in a house in Surry Hills with a bed and a gas ring so I can cook our meals. Patrick’s just started school. We survive.’

‘And your family, Bridie? Have you contacted them?’

She nodded. ‘I wrote to tell them what had happened, but there is no more money in Ireland than there is in Australia, so they can’t help me. I just have to manage as best I can.’

Joe looked at her. ‘How brave you are. Just like you always were.’

‘Not a lot of choice,’ said Bridie bitterly. ‘What have you been doing since last I saw you, Giuseppe?’

Joe told her about Franco and their fishing business south of Sydney and how successful it was. ‘I even have my own car now,’ he said proudly.

‘I always knew you would do well. Are you married?’

‘I was. My wife Evalina was a wonderful woman. She was a good wife and mother. She always looked after the boys and me and never complained when I was away fishing, although I knew that she worried. I have not one word of complaint about her, except that she left me. She died giving birth to my youngest son, Carlo. He has just started school, too, so it sounds as though he is about the same age as your son Patrick. I have two other boys – Ricardo, the eldest, and Pietro.’

‘Giuseppe, that is such a sad thing to have happened, especially when you seem to have been so happy. Who’s looking after your boys while you are in Sydney?’

‘My mother came out from Italy to look after us all.’

Joe glanced at his watch. ‘I will have to go soon. I have an appointment with my bank in Martin Place.’

Bridie rose out of her seat. ‘Please, don’t waste any more time with me. I feel so, so . . . embarrassed that you’ve seen me like this.’

‘I’m sorry that times have been so bad for you. But things will change now. Come on, we have to go. I mustn’t be late.’

‘Thank you. I don’t want to hold you up.’

‘When does your boy finish school?’

‘Three o’clock.’

‘Plenty of time then,’ said Joe. ‘You’re coming with me. I’m not letting you out of my sight.’

He took out his wallet, left some money on the table and took Bridie’s arm as they walked out of the tea shop and headed towards Martin Place. But when they reached the imposing bank headquarters Bridie shrank back.

‘I can’t go in there. My clothes are not respectable enough to be seen in there with you. What will people think? I’ll wait out here.’

‘Nonsense, of course you can come in with me,’ said Joe firmly. He sensed her discomfort but he was determined not to lose her a second time.

‘Giuseppe . . . Joe, I will embarrass you.’

‘Bridie, all these years I have never stopped thinking about you, so now I’ve found you again, I’m not losing you. Please come inside and wait for me. I won’t be long.’

Joe led Bridie to a chair in the reception area outside the office of the loans manager, ignoring the cool look of the secretary.

‘Mr Aquino,’ she whispered. ‘Is your, er, companion seeing Mr Braxton as well?’

‘Mrs Sullivan is with me. She is an old friend. Please look after her for me. If she is not here when I come out of Mr Braxton’s office, I will hold you responsible,’ he said quietly and firmly.

The secretary flushed. ‘Yes, Mr Aquino.’

As Joe walked into the manager’s office, he heard her say, ‘Mrs Sullivan, would you care for a cup of tea?’

But Bridie shook her head. ‘No, thank you. But is there a ladies’ room I could use, please?’

Joe emerged from Mr Branxton’s office about half an hour later, carrying his hat and with his overcoat on his arm. He shook hands with the loans manager, who gave Bridie a quizzical look.

Joe looked fondly at Bridie and said, ‘Mr Braxton, this is Mrs Sullivan. An old friend.’ Smiling, Joe put his hat on his head, took Bridie’s arm again and walked from the office.

‘I feel eyes burning a hole in my back,’ said Bridie who, nonetheless, held her head erect. ‘I think you scared the secretary. I went to the ladies’ and I couldn’t have been there more than a couple of minutes when she came to find me. What did she think I was going to do, climb out the tiny window?’ Bridie laughed and Joe almost shouted with joy to hear it. This was the Bridie he knew, the woman who was not afraid to travel by herself halfway around the world to get married, leaving behind her all that was familiar, ready to take on the challenge of a new life in a new country. Joe had made her feel that she was that woman again, pretty and confident with her self-respect restored.

‘Bridie, you said that your son will be home about three? We have enough time to create a surprise for him. Come with me.’

‘What are you talking about, Giuseppe?’

‘Joe, remember. Only my mother calls me Giuseppe now, and you are certainly not my mother. I’m taking you to Farmers Department Store. You can buy yourself some new clothes, for Patrick as well as yourself. If you want to go to the hairdresser there you could, then we’ll pick up Patrick and catch the train to Wollongong where I left my car. From there we drive to Whitby Point, which is where I live. It’s a small place but you will like it. And so will Patrick.’

Bridie stopped in the middle of the footpath.

‘Joe, this is crazy talk. After all these years you expect me to drop everything and take off with you to become, what, your mistress? It is nice to see you and know how well you are doing, but the rest is just impossible . . .’

‘Bridie, you becoming my mistress is the furthest thing from my mind. I want to hold you and kiss you just as I imagined I would all that time ago on the ship. My feelings for you haven’t changed. I want to marry you, make you part of my family, bring you into my home, not have you tucked away somewhere. I love you very much. I always have.’ He looked intently at Bridie, who stared back at him in astonishment. ‘You don’t feel the same as I do? I’m sorry, I should not have asked so soon.’ His voice lost its confidence.

‘Joe, this is all too much of a rush. It’s been thirteen years and I have to think about what you are saying.’

‘I understand. I am asking a lot of you, but please let me at least buy you and Patrick some new clothes.’

Bridie smiled and looked at her faded coat. ‘We could certainly use them, especially Patrick. Thank you for your offer.’

Three hours later Bridie emerged from the department store attired in a simple dress and jacket, carrying gloves and a new handbag, and, for the first time in a very long time, wearing immaculate stockings and new shoes. Her curls had been tamed by the store’s hairdresser into neat rows and her face had been treated by a beautician. Now her fine skin glowed, her freckles had been dusted with face powder, her lashes tipped in mascara and her mouth shone with a pale pink lipstick.

‘You look wonderful,’ said Joe, thrilled to have helped her look more relaxed and happy.

‘It’s too much. You’ve spent far too much money on me,’ began Bridie, but she couldn’t hide her pleasure and delight.

Because it was nearly time for school to finish, and in spite of Bridie’s protests, Joe hired a taxi to take them to the place where she and Patrick lived in Surry Hills.

‘Joe, you are wasting money. We could easily walk.’

Joe was shocked as they drove past the mean-looking houses of the Surry Hills slums. Sitting cheek by jowl, the houses opened up straight onto the street and dirty children played in the gutters.

‘You can’t live here,’ Joe exclaimed. ‘It’s so squalid.’

‘Well, beggars can’t be choosers,’ Bridie replied tartly. ‘My neighbours are good people. We all help each other. I would find things much harder without their support.’

The taxi pulled up outside one of the cramped houses and Joe followed Bridie inside.

‘Oh, you’re back. I’ve got Patrick in here,’ a voice called out.

‘Thanks, Ruby. Send him in.’

As Bridie opened the door to her room a small boy rushed to her.

‘This is my son Patrick.’

‘Hello, I’m Joe. How do you do, Patrick?’

‘Mr d’Aquino and I knew each other a long time ago. We came to Australia on the same boat,’ explained Bridie.

Shyly Patrick shook hands with Joe. ‘How do you do?’ he asked.

Joe followed Bridie into her room. It was tiny, dominated by a single bed. There was also a little table and one hard wooden chair. The floor was bare except for a small worn rug. Joe knew that the place would be cold in winter and stiflingly hot in summer. He was dismayed by what he saw. His beautiful Bridie should not live like this.

There was a sharp knock on the door and a voice called out, ‘Can I come in?’

‘Yes, of course. Joe, it’s my friend Ruby. She always keeps an eye on Patrick for me, like she did this afternoon.’

Joe found it difficult not to stare too rudely at Ruby. She had brightly peroxided hair, red painted nails and wore a gaudy kimono. She reminded him of someone, and then it struck him that Ruby was a cheap edition of Sophia, his first girlfriend in Sydney.

Ruby stared at Bridie in her new clothes with her styled hair and then looked at Joe in his handsome coat and hat and gave Bridie a knowing look.

‘Ruby, this is Joe, a very old friend who has been very kind to both Patrick and me this afternoon.’

‘Pleased to meet you, Joe. How do you know Bridie?’

‘We came out on the same boat to Australia. Bridie taught me to speak English.’

‘She did a good job then. You don’t sound too much like an eytie at all. Bridie, luv, can I borrow a bit of sugar? Went to make meself a cuppa and found I was out.’

‘Help yourself.’

‘How many people are living in this house, Bridie?’ Joe asked.