Strawberry Fields (63 page)
Sara smiled at him. ‘All right, Brog,’ she said. ‘I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have beside me on an adventure, either. Shall we find the dining room and get ourselves some dinner?’
Brogan sat down on the bed and pulled her down beside him. Then, very gently, he began to kiss the side of her neck, her face, her small, rosy ear. ‘Sara?’ he murmured. ‘Are you sure you’re wantin’ your dinner now?’
Sara sighed tremulously. ‘Well, I daresay I could wait for a bit, if you aren’t too hungry,’ she said.
Outside the cabin the sun sank in the west and the seabirds hawked and called. On deck the lights came on, passengers made their way to the dining room, to the bars and lounges. But in their small cabin, holding each other close, Brogan and Sara were oblivious. Dinner was forgotten, Liverpool might have happened in another life, America was just a dream. Brogan O’Brady and his new wife were learning to love one another.
EpilogueIt was two days since the wedding and life in the crossing cottage was returning to normal after all the excitement. And in the little bedroom overlooking the railway line, Polly lay on her tummy and, with considerable pauses for thought, wrote a letter.
Dear Tad,
Well, it was a wonderful wedding so it was and the hooley after was grand, too. I met a girl called Grace, she was nice, and all the other people were nice as well. We went and waved to Brogan and Sara and Mammy wasn’t there then, but she went after. I’ve already told you about me animals and how happy we all are. Only I would rather be back in the Liberties, with you. I go to a nice school in a nice village and I have found some nice friends. Mammy says they’re Proddies but they are all right, you’d like ’em. Only they are none of them as nice as you. There isn’t a church too near so we can’t go every Sunday which is great, but when I do go it is just like home in there and I think about you. You would like it here, honest to God you would, Tad. There is so much countryside, you have no idea, it stretches for miles and miles. I can pick blackers every day if I like and paddle in the brook which is just like the canal only not so big and a lot wigglier. My teacher is pretty, she says I read and write good for my age, she says I might go to the grammar school if I work hard.
Well, it was a wonderful wedding so it was and the hooley after was grand, too. I met a girl called Grace, she was nice, and all the other people were nice as well. We went and waved to Brogan and Sara and Mammy wasn’t there then, but she went after. I’ve already told you about me animals and how happy we all are. Only I would rather be back in the Liberties, with you. I go to a nice school in a nice village and I have found some nice friends. Mammy says they’re Proddies but they are all right, you’d like ’em. Only they are none of them as nice as you. There isn’t a church too near so we can’t go every Sunday which is great, but when I do go it is just like home in there and I think about you. You would like it here, honest to God you would, Tad. There is so much countryside, you have no idea, it stretches for miles and miles. I can pick blackers every day if I like and paddle in the brook which is just like the canal only not so big and a lot wigglier. My teacher is pretty, she says I read and write good for my age, she says I might go to the grammar school if I work hard.
Polly paused, sucking the end of her pencil. The trouble was, the only words she had were words which Tad, in his wisdom, would probably think soppy. But there you were. She would have to say them, it was the whole reason she was writing.
Mammy and Daddy like it here and so do the boys. It is fun to open and close the gate so’s the cars and lorries and tractors can get by. The farm hands call me ‘Ginger’ and tease me but they bring me fruit and sweets so I don’t mind. I could box the fox every day if I wanted but I don’t, because we have apple trees and a pear tree and two plum trees of our own – think of that, Tad!
Polly paused again and gave her pencil another chew. She had written to Tad three times already and hadn’t had a single reply. She had better threaten him a little.
This is me third letter to you, Tad, where is yours to me?
she enquired laboriously. He wouldn’t like it, but you needed a reply now and then else you got discouraged and gave up.
I can’t write for ever when I don’t know if you’re getting the letters. And Tad, please don’t forget we’re going to get married when we’re big. Because
. . . Could she say it? Could she risk either his wrath or his mirth? But she knew she would have to, because Brogan had told her how he’d nearly lost his Sara through being afraid to speak out, and she did not intend to lose Tad, not she! . . .
Because I love you, Tad Donoghue,
she wrote at last, then rolled over on to her back and read the letter through, word by word, right down to the very end where she had bared her soul, her heart . . . ah, if that bloody Tad Donoghue laughed . . . didn’t reply . . .
she enquired laboriously. He wouldn’t like it, but you needed a reply now and then else you got discouraged and gave up.
I can’t write for ever when I don’t know if you’re getting the letters. And Tad, please don’t forget we’re going to get married when we’re big. Because
. . . Could she say it? Could she risk either his wrath or his mirth? But she knew she would have to, because Brogan had told her how he’d nearly lost his Sara through being afraid to speak out, and she did not intend to lose Tad, not she! . . .
Because I love you, Tad Donoghue,
she wrote at last, then rolled over on to her back and read the letter through, word by word, right down to the very end where she had bared her soul, her heart . . . ah, if that bloody Tad Donoghue laughed . . . didn’t reply . . .
She signed off.
Please write back quick. Your loving Polly O’Brady.
Then she got off her bed and went over to the windowseat. If she looked far into the distance and let her eyes go all unfocussed she could imagine she was looking right across the country, across the sea . . . yes, there it was, way, way in the distance.
Please write back quick. Your loving Polly O’Brady.
Then she got off her bed and went over to the windowseat. If she looked far into the distance and let her eyes go all unfocussed she could imagine she was looking right across the country, across the sea . . . yes, there it was, way, way in the distance.
Dublin. The Liberties. Tad Donoghue.
You could go a long way for someone you loved, Polly mused, turning away from the window. Look at Brogan now, going all the way to the United States of America so that he and his Sara could be together without fighting and argument. So if she was serious about Tad, and she was, she would go back for him. Or possibly he would come over here for her. It didn’t much matter, so long as they ended up together.
Polly crossed the bedroom and went out on to the small landing. Spring was coming and outside a sweet breeze blew in through the tiny open window which looked out over miles and miles of rolling countryside, to the hills of Wales beyond. Polly glanced down the stairwell; if she wanted to go for a run with Delilah before tea was served she would have to get a move on.
With the letter in her hand she began to descend the stairs and when she reached the bottom she closed both eyes and prayed. Let Tad get my letter, and let him write back, she begged. And then she addressed herself to her guardian angel. If you love me, could you just fly off to Dublin for a bit, an’ keep an eye on Tad Donoghue for me? He’s a naughty chiseller, but his heart’s in the right place so it is, and I’m none too sure he’s got an angel of his own. But I’ve got so much, me mammy, me daddy, me friends and me home. So please, Angel, wherever you are, give a t’ought to Tad.
Polly opened her eyes and just for an instant, in the darkness of the downstairs hallway, she thought she saw someone . . . something. Faint as mist, gentle as the spring breeze, her guardian angel smiled on Polly O’Brady.
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