Patricia Falvey (39 page)

Aoife lost her composure and began to whimper. I had frightened the life out of her with my outburst. I got out of the bath and dried myself. Still naked, I picked her up and held her close.

“Ssh, child,” I whispered. “It’s only a woman’s sadness you are seeing. You’ll have plenty of it in your own time.”

I climbed the stairs, undressed her, and put her into my bed. I slipped in beside her. The warmth of her small body, innocent and pure, was such a comfort that I wept silently until we both fell asleep.

LATER THAT EVENING
, P.J. and Terrence came to my door, along with Paddy.

“Terrence told me the news,” P.J. burst out as soon as he had seated himself beside the fire. “The bastards!” he cried. “Stealing the child from right under our noses. They should be drawn and quartered. That matron has a lot to answer for. I’ll bet it’s not the only time it happened. If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll track her down and…”

P.J.’s face was scarlet, and his breath came in small spurts. Terrence put up his hand.

“Ah, sure it’s all water under the bridge now, P.J. That matron is long dead and gone. It’s tracking down Lizzie we should be—and thanking God for the miracle that she’s alive.”

P.J. sniffed and relit his pipe. He didn’t like being crossed by Terrence.

I had almost forgotten about Lizzie in all the events of the last night. Now I smiled for the first time.

“Aye, it’s a miracle all right, Terrence. Although I wish the miracle could have rubbed off on Ma.”

Terrence looked at me. “Ah, give her time, Eileen. Perhaps she needs to see Lizzie in the flesh before she grasps the meaning of it at all.”

It was what Owen had said. I put the thought out of my head.

“We’ll track her down, Eileen,” said Terrence. “Between us all we’ll find her. Won’t we, P.J.?”

P.J. nodded.

I turned to Paddy. “I’m sorry I missed mass with you this morning, love.”

He looked at me, grave as always. “It’s no bother, Eileen. Terrence and P.J. said they wouldn’t have expected you today. They said after what happened last night that you would need your rest.”

His young face was solemn as an old man’s.

P.J. rose. “Well, speaking of rest, we should let you get an early night, love. We’ll be going, will we, Terrence?”

Terrence nodded and stood up. Paddy didn’t move. “I’ll stay over with Eileen,” he said. “I don’t want her to be alone tonight.”

We stared at him.

“Sure I have wee Aoife, love,” I said.

He shook his head. “No. I think you need somebody older.”

I looked over his head at P.J., who winked at me.

“What about school, young lad?”

“I can take an early tram home in the morning and still be in time for school.”

P.J. took a long draw on his pipe. “Well, I’ll have quare explaining to do to the missus, but you can stay if your big sister agrees.”

I nodded. “Of course. It’ll be lovely to have a fine young man protecting me.”

When P.J. and Terrence had gone, I took Paddy upstairs to Aoife’s room. Aoife was awake again and delighted to see him. I let them play. At almost thirteen, Paddy still loved to play with Aoife and make her laugh. After a while, I took Aoife into my bed and Paddy fitted himself uncomfortably into her small bed. Later, I climbed in beside Aoife, who was already asleep. Joy and love mingled with fear in my mind as I fell again into a deep sleep.

I
was with Owen again, pulling him so tight around me that not a thread of light could weave its way between our bodies. I locked him inside me and held him there, my fingers clawing his flesh. I cried his name aloud, urging him to fill up every empty chamber within me. Sweet, wet sweat cooled my skin, and I cried out loud. Somewhere, thunder clamored, waves of urgent sound matching the rhythm of our bodies. The images faded into mist, but the sound remained, louder now, insistent. A thumping on my shoulder brought me awake.

“Mammy, Mammy, bogeyman!”

Aoife was shaking me. I sat up. The thundering stopped.

“Bogeyman,” Aoife whispered. “He has no head.” The child’s wide eyes glinted in the darkness. I cursed Tommy McParland for frightening the life out of the child with his ghost stories about bogeymen and headless horsemen and the like.

“Ssh,” I whispered. “It was only a dream.”

“No, Mammy,” she cried, shaking her head from side to side.

“All right,” I said. “Just stay here.”

Then a thought occurred to her, and she smiled. “Da,” she crowed, clapping her hands.

I thought to myself I would rather it be a headless horseman than James at this moment. I got out of bed and pulled on my dressing gown. Slowly I crept downstairs and opened the front door and looked out. Frank’s face stared back at me. I flinched at the sight of him.

“Did you not hear me?” he hissed. “I banged loud enough to wake the dead.”

“I was asleep,” I murmured. “I must have been tired out.”

“Aye, from your gallivanting last night. Where were you, at all?”

“Out.”

“Sure I know that. Wasn’t I here banging on the door like an eejit, and all the lights out in the house. And you weren’t at Theresa’s, either.” Accusation filled his voice. “Are you letting me in or am I to stand on your doorstep like a stranger?”

I wanted to say that he was indeed a stranger, but I opened the door and let him into the parlor. He looked around.

“It’s not a palace, is it,” he said.

I ignored him. “Come into the kitchen. I’ll make tea.”

As I busied myself with the kettle, he sat in an armchair beside the fireplace and stretched out his legs, boots up on the fender. He did not take off his cap. Aoife and Paddy had crept down the stairs. They stood in the kitchen, Paddy holding Aoife by the hand, and stared at Frank. Frank looked from one to the other.

“Is this the child?” he said gruffly, pointing at Aoife.

“Sure who else would she be?” I snapped.

Aoife piped up. “Who are you?” she said.

Frank snorted. “Cheeky as her mother, I see.”

I placed the kettle on the hob and pulled down cups and saucers from the cupboard.

“He’s your uncle Frank, pet,” I said, “come to visit his poor relations.”

Paddy let go of Aoife’s hand. He stared steadily at Frank. Frank shifted in his chair.

“And who’s this other nosy fellow?” he said.

“That’s your brother, Paddy,” I said.

Frank’s mouth dropped open. He stared at Paddy. “It can’t be,” he said at last, “sure Paddy’s just a young fellow—a baby.”

I swung around. “Time doesn’t stand still, Frank. Our Paddy is almost a young man now, and a fine one at that, no thanks to all the thought you ever gave to him.”

Frank did not take his eyes off Paddy. “He’s the image of Lizzie,” he whispered.

I wanted to tell Frank the news about Lizzie, but something made me hesitate. Instead I said, “And what brings you here away from your fine farm?”

Frank swung around to look at me. “It’s glad you should be I put myself out to come here and warn you!”

“Warn me about what?”

He took his time with the tea I had handed to him, spilling it into the saucer and blowing on it to cool it. He slurped it up from the saucer and sat back in the chair. “Good and strong, at least,” he said, “the way Ma used to make it.”

I thought as I watched him that he might have plenty of money but he had no manners.

“Well?” I said.

He looked over at the children. “Maybe they shouldn’t hear this,” he said.

I would not humor him. “They’ll stay where they are,” I snapped.

“Suit yourself.” He cleared his throat and stood up. His bulky presence filled the kitchen as he paced back and forth like the country squire.

“You’ve been seen with that Sheridan fellow.”

I shrugged. “That’s old news,” I said, sweat prickling the back of my neck.

Frank’s face turned red. “So you admit it! How the feck do you think it looks for a sister of mine to be seen gallivanting about with the likes of Sheridan? Is it informing you are?”

I jumped from my chair. “Informing? And what is it to you what I’m doing? Sure you don’t give a feck about the Cause. From what I hear, you’re too busy feathering your own nest!”

Frank came over to me. His face was inches from mine. “You’re right, I don’t give a feck about the Cause, but I do give a feck about staying on the right side of your husband’s friends.” He backed away slightly. “We have certain agreements between us, and I can’t have my sister carousing with the British Army. It casts suspicion on all of us. Now, I don’t know what you’re up to, my girl, but you’d better stop it right now. I forbid you to go near him again.”

I was too flabbergasted to speak. Forbid me? What in God’s name gave him the right to forbid me to do anything?

“I’ll live my life as I please,” I shouted at last. My whole body trembled.

Frank raised his hand and slapped me hard across the face. Aoife screamed. The pain of the slap brought tears to my eyes. I was too shocked to speak.

“Leave her alone! Leave her alone!” Suddenly Paddy was behind Frank, tugging on him, his fists locked around his arms. The boy’s devil had returned.

Frank swung around, his hand raised to slap Paddy, when it seemed to freeze in the air. He let his hand drop and instead took him by the shoulders and pushed him away. He stared at him.

“Jesus, he’s the image of Lizzie,” he said again.

Something softened my heart. I reached over to Frank.

“Come and sit down,” I whispered, “I have something very important to tell you.”

Frank allowed me to lead him back to the chair by the fire. He sat down and looked into my face. In that moment, I caught a glimpse of the wounded young boy who rode off in the cart from the Yellow House years ago.

I knelt in front of him and took his hands in mine. “Frankie,” I whispered, “Lizzie is alive. She never died after all. She was adopted out of the Fever Hospital by a couple in Belfast. We’re going to find her, Frankie. We’re going to bring her home.”

Tears softened Frank’s eyes, and he wiped them away quickly. “Are you sure?” he said.

“Would I lie about something like this? I only found out myself last night. I still haven’t swallowed the news yet.”

Frank sat frozen in the chair for a long time. Emotions that only he could identify crossed his face. He looked around my house and at Aoife and Paddy. Then he stood up.

“I’m sorry I slapped you,” he said. And then the old Frank was back. “But mark my words, Eileen, there’ll be trouble if you keep being seen with that fellow. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

And then he was gone. The roar of his motorcar filled the street and then died away to a low whine. I steered Paddy and Aoife to bed and went back downstairs to clean up the kitchen. Slowly, I washed dishes and stoked the fire. I would have to be up early to take Paddy down to the tram. Paddy! I shuddered at the anger I had witnessed seething out of the boy. It had stopped Frank in his tracks as well. I had hoped that he might have outgrown it by now; he was almost thirteen. Da would have said he was a true O’Neill—another young warrior. But somehow the thought brought me more distress than pride. I switched my thoughts to Frank. What would be going through his head just now? Would news of Lizzie change him? Would coming face-to-face with his lost family soften him, or would it make his sense of loss even greater? Lizzie had been the only one who could make our Frankie smile. I prayed that we could bring her home.