The Runaway (35 page)

Johnny Devlin began to say that he had stolen nothing, whilst at the same moment Feena was saying that of course her dearest Donovan could not possibly have known, for until a long time after his death there was nothing to know. She explained, or tried to, that she had been leaning on Johnny ever since her husband’s death, but that dependence had only turned to love nine or ten months ago. ‘Your Daddy would understand, acushla; a woman needs a man she can rely on,’ she explained, whilst tears ran down her cheeks. ‘Please, me darlin’, try to understand.’

But Dana had not done so. She had wrenched her hands out of her mother’s grasp and headed for the back door, saying over her shoulder as she went, ‘I take it Con now sleeps in the stable flat alone? If you two have been sharing a bed—’

Johnny had been comforting Feena, who was now
weeping unrestrainedly, but at these words he took a tiger’s leap across the kitchen and grabbed Dana by her long ponytail of bright hair, jerking her to a halt. ‘You nasty-minded little bitch,’ he said violently. ‘Take that back! There’s not a word of truth in it, so I’m tellin’ you. She’s me promised wife and don’t you forget it.’

But Dana had wrenched herself out of his grip and was off, charging across the courtyard and up the steep wooden flight of stairs to enter what they had always called the ‘coachman’s flat’ at a dead run. In the doorway she collided with Con, who had obviously been about to descend to the kitchen. He and his father almost always ate with the McBrides, it being easier from both a marketing and a cooking point of view.

Con’s strong hands grabbed Dana, abruptly stopping her onward flight. ‘What’s up? Oh, Dana, you’ve been crying, but I can tell it’s tears of rage. Who’s in the black books of Miss McBride of Castletara, eh?’ His tone was teasing, but when Dana looked into his face she saw genuine concern there.

Hastily, without giving a thought to the fact that Feena had said Con’s father had not yet confided his future plans to his son, Dana poured out the whole story. How she had gone into the kitchen to find Feena and Johnny wrapped in a close embrace and how they had explained that they meant to get married. Con’s eyebrows began to climb, and when she reached the end of her tale, repeating the very words Johnny had shouted at her, he actually laughed! ‘Well, what a mountain you’re making out of a molehill, alanna,’ he said, his tone light. ‘Sure and haven’t I known this age that me daddy couldn’t take his eyes off your mammy and his every glance a
caress! It’s time and more that they got wed if you ask me. Oh, I know what you’re going to say; but your daddy’s been dead almost three years …’

‘But Mammy loved him; when he died she said she loved him more than life itself, and but for me and Castletara she’d have prayed for an early death. Now, not even three years later, she’s talking of jumping into bed wit’ her husband’s best friend and business partner! It’s – it’s obscene, Con! Daddy would have—’

‘Your daddy would have cheered them on,’ Con said firmly. ‘Act your age, Dana! You are nearly twenty years old, quite old enough to know the facts of life, and one of those is writ large in biblical texts …’ He put his head on one side, thinking, then quoted the phrase he had thought appropriate. ‘’Tis
better to marry than to burn
.’

Dana stared at him, her brows drawing together into a frown. ‘It says that in the Bible? Well, I suppose in certain cases it’s true, but my mammy and your dad have been working together for years and no one’s mentioned marriage. Why now?’

Con began to speak, then he looked hard at Dana and to her considerable amazement he took her in his arms and began to kiss her. First they were little gentle kisses but then they grew harder, more demanding, and when the pair of them collapsed on to the bed it was all Dana could do to free herself from his embrace and leap to her feet, turning towards the stairs.

‘You disgust me, Con Devlin,’ she said thickly. ‘So you won’t help me to stop this marriage going ahead? Well, so far as I’m concerned, then, they can do as they like and burn in hell for it along with yourself, ’cos I’m off.’

*

Dana had been telling Polly the story as it had happened, with the pair of them sitting side by side on the bed so that neither had to see the other’s expression as the tale was told. Now, however, they turned simultaneously to face one another.

‘Well?’ Dana asked harshly. ‘Do you think I did wrong? Now I suppose Con was right and I should have understood why my mother needed Johnny. I was – oh, I was rather young for my age. And Con jumping on me like that … well, it didn’t help. I felt completely alone for the very first time in my life. Daddy had gone, Mammy was about to go, because I was sure that once she was married to Johnny they wouldn’t want me about the place, and Con … oh, Con was going to support them. He’d made it plain that he thought their marrying was a good thing. So I steered well clear of everyone that day, and stayed out of doors until I thought they’d all gone to bed. Then I went up to my room, packed a few clothes into a haversack, took a couple of my favourite books and lit out. I walked for miles and miles, burning with indignation, hoping they’d think I’d drowned myself in the river and blame themselves for my death. I must have walked thirty or forty miles, sleeping rough, until I reached a small town where I got casual work from a farmer whose son had put a pitchfork through his foot and so was out of commission. After that I made my way to Dublin and caught the ferry for Liverpool, reasoning that such a busy port would be sure to have some employment for me.’ She grinned suddenly at Polly, looking both amused and ashamed. ‘I actually intended to cut my hair off and buy some boy’s clothing so I could get work aboard ship; wasn’t that daft? Only before we
docked I met Caitlin; she was a bit older than me and had visited Liverpool before. She said we’d be sure to get jobs of some description and suggested we pal up and get ourselves a bed at the YWCA until we could afford a room-share. She couldn’t wait to tell me how she had been jilted and all about her family, but being Caitlin, and pretty self-centred, she never asked me one question about my home or why I had left it. And that, dear Polly, is where you come in. What is it they say? Oh yes, the rest is history. And you needn’t tell me I’ve been every sort of idiot because I know it, but if I had to relive the whole awful business again I still don’t believe I could meekly accept my mother’s marrying Johnny Devlin. I suppose the me that sits beside you now would make the best of it, perhaps get a job somewhere else – something to do with horses, of course. But I don’t believe I could’ve stayed at Castletara once they were wed.’

Polly stared at Dana, wide-eyed. ‘I can’t understand why you did what you did,’ she said slowly. ‘It’s difficult for me, never having had loving parents, or a good home, to imagine walking away from happiness, security, even love. From what I can remember, whenever my father came home there were fearful rows. The only notice he ever took of me was to give me a clack round the head if I crossed his path; he were a nasty piece of work, I’m tellin’ you. But as I’ve said to you before, Dee, if I’d had a mother or father like yours I’d have clung on to ’em no matter what. Did you hate Johnny Devlin so much, then? I guess he must be the feller Ernie and meself took to be your dad. Is Mr Devlin tall, with black curly hair, rather a thin face?’

‘Yes, that would’ve been Johnny, and no I didn’t hate him; I liked him a lot,’ Dana said miserably. ‘But when I saw my mother in his arms … oh I suppose it was sheer jealousy raising its ugly head. Just for that moment I hated him and I hated Mammy too, with all my heart and soul, though now I’m ashamed of myself.’

There was a short silence whilst Polly struggled to express her feelings without hurting Dana; she realised it would not help anyone to antagonise her friend, particularly as Dana had already admitted that she had been – was – at fault. Finally Polly decided that she could do with some help; this was indeed a tricky situation. She stood up, took Dana’s hands and pulled her to her feet. ‘We’d best go into the kitchen, because it’s not fair to invite a chap for dinner and then leave him to do all the work,’ she said. ‘And as you must realise, Ernie knows as much as I do now about the situation, so all three of us should talk it over.’

She began to pull her friend towards the door, but Dana resisted. ‘Hang on a minute, Poll,’ she said urgently. ‘What do you mean, “talk it over”? Talking isn’t going to do much good. All this happened years ago and no one can undo it. Oh, I suppose I might write to my mother and Johnny and admit I was stupid, but I can’t possibly go back to Castletara and claim anything from them. Don’t you see? That was why I wanted to make a success of my own business – so that I could return as an independent person, having made my own way in the world …’

Polly snorted. ‘You’re talking rubbish and you know it,’ she said. ‘Your mother will want you back on any terms. Good mothers are like that, or so I’ve been told.
But it’s not just that.’ Here she opened the kitchen door and literally dragged Dana inside, pushing her into one of the chairs and beckoning Ernie to sit down as well. ‘Look, Dana, you just heard old Chamberlain saying we’re at war. No matter how you look at it, being at war will change things, or at least I imagine it will.’ She looked across at Ernie. ‘Go on, Ern, tell Dana what you think may happen.’

Ernie cleared his throat. He looked uncomfortable – who would not? – but determined, and when he spoke it was calmly, almost as though he had rehearsed what he was about to say. ‘I’ve been thinkin’ it out, Dana, and ever since Independence Ireland has been a foreign country. In time of war borders between countries close. It’s quite possible that in a few weeks, travel to Ireland may be not just restricted but impossible. I suppose if that does happen you could go up to Scotland, take the ferry to Northern Ireland at Stranraer and then cross the border into Eire, unless that border gets closed as well. Polly and I talked it over before we knew for certain that war was coming and we both think you ought to go back to Castletara now without wasting time wondering if you’re doing the right thing. Once you get there I’m sure your mother and this Devlin fellow will beg you to stay. Dana, they probably need you. I know you’ll say they’ve managed without you for three years, but that was because they had no choice. And anyway, if you decide to come back to Temperance Court and the Freeway Cinema at least it’ll be your decision. So will you go home tomorrow?’

Dana stared from face to face. Polly saw her friend’s lower lip quiver and her eyes blink rapidly, but when at
last Dana spoke it was calmly. ‘What, and let the Freeway brothers down after all they’ve done for me? I don’t want to sound conceited, Ern, but with almost all the truly trustable staff at the cafeteria having left to take jobs in the factories, which are paying so much better than we can, how can I turn round and tell Jake that I’m off to Ireland and there’s nobody I can trust to run the place in my absence? Ralph joined the air force weeks ago and Jake’s hoping that the air force accept him too, which he seems to think they will. So you see, going off tomorrow is out of the question and I wouldn’t dream of it, but you can both stop nagging because the truth is I know you’re right. If I can get someone elderly but reliable to run the place I’ll think about going off in a couple of weeks. And now let’s get on with cooking our Sunday dinner.’

But when on Monday morning the girls switched the wireless on it was to hear some news which caused Dana’s plans to be brought forward. The government announced that all places of entertainment, such as cinemas, theatres, dance halls and fairgrounds, were to cease trading and close immediately, remaining closed until further announcements. Dana and Polly, sitting opposite one another at the kitchen table and spooning porridge, stared, round-eyed. ‘Well of all the daft things …’ Polly began, then stopped short, waving her porridge spoon. ‘It’s perishin’ well a sign from above,’ she said solemnly. ‘If the cinema closes the cafeteria will close and that means you can start packing right now. I’ll come and see you aboard the Irish ferry, because I’m sure they’ll keep on sailing. Do you realise, queen, that we’re both out of work?’

Dana scraped her porridge bowl clean and nodded. ‘Yes, I suppose we are,’ she acknowledged. ‘Oh, all right, Polly, you needn’t labour the point. I’ll go back to Castletara, if only for a few days.’ She sounded far from delighted, but as another thought occurred to her she brightened. ‘Oh, Polly, me darlin’ Polly, why don’t you come with me? It would be so much easier if I wasn’t alone. I’d pay your passage all the way to Castletara and back; do say you’ll come!’

Polly, however, shook her head firmly. ‘It’s no good, chuck, this is one problem you’re going to have to face alone,’ she said. ‘When the Prodigal Son – or in your case Daughter – returns, she don’t go bringin’ her best mate with her. And besides, I’ve plans of me own,’ she added mysteriously. She leaned forward and peered into her friend’s cup. ‘Ah, you’ve drunk your tea. How about another cup before you start your packing?’

It did not take Dana long to pack; she simply thrust a change of underwear, a thick jersey and a tweed skirt into a paper carrier bag, only adding her comb and toothbrush when Polly, scandalised, reminded her that she really needed such mundane objects. All the way to the Pier Head the two girls discussed what would happen now that war was a fact, and not unnaturally Dana questioned Polly closely about the mysterious plans which apparently meant that Polly could not leave the shores of Britain. ‘I bet you mean to get work in one of the factories,’ she guessed. ‘I know you, Polly; you’ll want to be a part of the war effort. I say, where are all those kids going? It seems an odd time for a school outing!’

Polly tutted. ‘Do you go around with your eyes shut
and your fingers stuffed in your perishin’ ears?’ she asked derisively. ‘They’re being what they call evacuated from all the big cities. Can’t you see the labels tied on their coats? Poor little buggers, they must feel that yesterday they were kids and today they’re just parcels. Some of ’em left even before war was declared, but most of ’em were told to go to their schools this morning with their stuff in bags or paper carriers and the teachers would take responsibility for them once they reached the station.’