The Runaway (39 page)

Dana promised, and thought it was worth it when she saw the worry leave her employer’s face. ‘I know we’ve had difficulty recruiting cooks, waitresses and so on, but that’s because we can’t offer the same wages as the munitions factories,’ she said reassuringly. ‘But a manageress gets even more than a girl handling dynamite so if I need someone to cover for me there’ll be no difficulty in filling that post once the word gets around.’

Jake grinned at her. ‘Good girl,’ he said. ‘I’ve got my instructions and will join my ship in Plymouth in ten days. They’ve sent me a rail pass and detailed instructions, so make the most of me while I’m here. Now, come
with me, Polly; I’m going to the office to write to Ralph, to let him know he’s not the only one going to fight for his country.’

The day following Jake’s acceptance by the Royal Navy, Dana received the long-awaited letter from Con. It came at breakfast time whilst the girls were eating toast, and it came in the same post as one from Ralph, which Dana opened first because all of a sudden she was terrified by what Con’s letter might contain.

Ralph’s letter was a cheerful, rambling description of his voyage out to South Africa where he and his fellow would-be pilots were to train on ancient Tiger Moths. He also told of parties given by the friendly local people, and reading between the lines Dana concluded that the South African girls, generous to a fault, were only too eager to give these young heroes whatever they wanted.

Dana grinned to herself. Good for you, Ralph, she thought. Don’t you worry about me, because you never pretended anything but friendship, and God knows it’s all I ever felt for you.

But Con was different. She opened the letter with shaking fingers and was tempted to make some excuse and carry it through into the bedroom where it might be read in private, for it was long – she counted five thin sheets – and whatever Con said she would need time and quiet to assimilate it. She was about to get to her feet, murmuring an excuse to leave the room, when she caught Polly’s eye, and thought better of it. She gave her friend a watery grin, and waved the envelope. ‘It’s the one I’ve been waiting for. It’s from Con.’

‘Oh ho!’ Polly said brightly, eyeing the number of sheets in Dana’s hand. ‘Looks like he’s written a novel – well, a
novelette at any rate – so you’d best get reading or we’ll be late for work. Want to take it through to the bedroom, so you won’t be disturbed by the row I make crunching toast?’

Dana gave a rather artificial laugh. ‘No need for that; although it’s quite long I don’t suppose it’ll take me many minutes to read,’ she said airily. ‘Make me another round of toast, there’s a pal. And you can top up my tea if there’s any more in the pot.’

‘Righty-ho,’ Polly said breezily and began to potter about whilst Dana settled down to read her letter. It began conventionally enough.

Dear Dana
,

Thank you for your letter. I have to admit it came as quite a surprise after so long; believe it or not, I did not even recognise your writing, though I suppose that shouldn’t have surprised me since until the day you left Castletara we were seldom apart long enough to write to each other. In fact I don’t think I ever received a letter from you until the one which was pinned up on the board in the mess a few days ago
.

I’m glad you went back to Castletara and are once more on good terms with Feena and my father. I agree that Donny is a dear little boy though I’ve only met him a couple of times. Also, it is nice that you have a good job which you enjoy. How strange that you should have taken to catering; from my recollection you seldom cooked or did any sort of housework, your interest being mainly centred in the horses. However, people change. I’ve changed myself; had to do so. I’m sure Feena told you how I searched for you after you left; unsuccessfully, of course. It never crossed my mind that you might leave Ireland, far less that you would settle in a big English city like Liverpool. What a fool I was! I’ve always thought of you as a country girl but it seems I was wrong. I was wrong about a lot of things. Forgive me, but there is a hard streak in your nature which I had never suspected. I honestly thought I meant a lot to you, almost as much as you meant to me. When your letter arrived – aha, I’d forgotten that you did write – it was so stiff and cold that I could not bear to share it with Johnny and Feena for several days. Was that the reason why our letters begging you to come home were returned as ‘not known at this address’? If so then the fault was mine and I’m sorry for it
.

However, I digress. I’m glad you’ve written explaining your circumstances, but there was no need for you to apologise. There were faults on both sides – on all sides I suppose I could say – so I will apologise for my part in the misunderstanding. As you can see from the date on this letter I have taken time to reply at some length to your suggestion that we should correspond. To be frank, Dana, I don’t think it a good idea. Even remembering how I felt when you first ran away is too painful to contemplate. Going through it twice … well, I refuse to consider it. It would be like returning to plunge into a burning building a second time and if you think I’m being absurd and exaggerating I’m sorry, but that’s how I feel
.

Oh, Dana, this is as hard for me to write as it may be for you to read, but I can’t and won’t go through it again. It’s taken me a long while, but I’ve made a new life for myself. I have new friends, some of whom are my fellow officers, others not. I’m sure you, too, have new friends and will not miss me. I tell myself we were not just friends but more like brother and sister, so I ought to be able to exchange letters with you, but I find I cannot. I’m really sorry and perhaps one day I’ll feel differently but for now at any rate we must both concentrate on our role in the war
.

I’m sorry
.

Your friend Con
.

Dana had started to cry halfway through the letter and was in full flood by the time she reached the end. Con, who had loved her like a sister apparently, had been so badly hurt by her behaviour that he no longer wanted to receive letters from her; her suggestion that he might call in Temperance Court were he ever to visit Liverpool had been completely ignored.

‘Dana?’ Polly spoke hesitantly. When her friend continued to sob, she pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of her skirt and, leaning across the table, thrust it into her hand. ‘Don’t tell me; he’s been and gone and got married,’ she said with an obvious attempt at lightness. ‘And what’s more he won’t accept your apology and says you ought to be beaten like a drum. That right?’

Dana shook her head, mopped her streaming eyes, and blew her nose resoundingly. Then she pushed the rather crumpled pages across to her friend. ‘It’s worse
than that. Much, much worse,’ she muttered. ‘He doesn’t want to write; he says … oh, you read it, Polly.’

Polly, who had been staring at the letter as though it might leap from the table and bite her on the nose, tried to spread out the first sheet and muttered a curse as she smeared teardrops. ‘Right you are, but whilst I read it you’d best go and give your face and hands a wash and pull yourself together,’ she said, speaking briskly though not unkindly. ‘Honestly, Dana, for a girl who never shows emotion you can’t half cry! This letter is almost as wet as you are.’

Despite her misery, Dana could not help smiling. She, who prided herself upon never crying, had apparently shed a positive river of tears, for now that she looked at Polly’s handkerchief it was soaking. She began to apologise, to say she did not know what had come over her, but her voice came out as a croak and instead of the words she had intended to say, far more truthful ones emerged. ‘It’s a beautiful letter, a far nicer letter than I deserve,’ she muttered hoarsely. ‘Con’s forgiven me, but I don’t think I shall ever forgive myself.’

Polly, head bent over the letter, looked up for a moment to jerk a thumb in the direction of the door. ‘Go and wash your face and brush your hair; put on a clean blouse if you’ve got one and then come back and we’ll talk as we walk down to the tram stop,’ she commanded. ‘I know you’ve had a nasty shock, I know you’re very upset, but that’s no excuse for turning up late. Jake’s an awfully good boss but he is strict on timekeeping, so you’d better pull yourself together. Off with you!’

Dana, gulping, obeyed, and soon the two girls, both neatly dressed and dry eyed though Dana’s lids were
still swollen, left Temperance Court and headed for the tram stop. As soon as they reached the main road, Dana turned a questioning face to Polly. ‘Well? If you’d received a letter like that I bet you’d have cried!’

Polly nodded. ‘Course I would, but if you don’t mind me saying so, Dana, you deserved that letter. You didn’t realise that a feller can be as badly hurt as a girl in the same position. Remember Caitlin? Oh, I know you’ll say it’s different, but you jilted Con the way Padraig jilted Caitlin. If someone as light-minded and silly as Caitlin can run away from a happy home, good parents and lots of money because she’s been let down, then you must admit being jilted is a painful thing.’

‘Yes, but I didn’t jilt anyone,’ Dana said stubbornly. ‘And Con wouldn’t agree that it was wrong of Feena and Johnny to get wed. He laughed at me, told me to grow up, took their side against me …’

‘And wasn’t he in the perishin’ right of it?’ Polly pointed out. ‘Look how happy your mam is with that Devlin feller! Look how prosperous the estate is and the stud an’ all. And did you honestly expect Con to side with you against his own father? Why, Dana, even you knew they were in love! And what good did running away do? It didn’t change things. They went ahead and got married and are happy, whereas you have had to struggle just to keep your head above water.’

‘Well, yes, but it’s Con we’re talking about, not me,’ Dana pointed out. She spoke rather stiffly, for it was a strange thing for her to be told off by Polly. Usually it was the other way round. ‘All right, all right, you’ve proved your point. I behaved very badly and Con suffered far more than I did as a result of my running
away. But surely I should be allowed to be his friend once more so that we can at least exchange letters?’

At this point they had reached the end of the tram queue and the two girls in front of them, recognising Dana from the cafeteria, turned and began to chat, so that it was impossible for Polly and Dana to talk confidentially until they left the tram at the Pier Head and caught the bus which would take them to the door of the Freeway Cinema.

Once ensconced in the bus, however, they were able to resume their conversation in relative privacy. Dana turned to Polly. ‘Well? What harm would it do to exchange letters, maybe even to meet up now and then? Three whole years have passed since I ran away from home and as you say they’ve been hard years, for me at any rate. I ask you, Polly, am I likely to run away again? Of course I’m not. All I’m asking is to be allowed to keep in touch with Con. Feena writes to me and Johnny usually adds a few lines to the letter, so why shouldn’t Con?’

Polly sighed. ‘Sometimes you’re as thick as pea soup and as pig-headed as – as a pig,’ she said. ‘It’s because to Con it would be like picking open an old wound; can’t you see how painful … oh, God, don’t start howling again or they’ll likely turn us off the bloody bus. What’s up this time, anyway?’

Dana had dived into her handkerchief but now she raised a tear-blubbered face to her friend. ‘It’s because I know you’re right and I suppose Con’s right as well,’ she said miserably. ‘But knowing Con is out there somewhere and I can’t even write him a letter makes me feel like a snail torn out of its shell. Oh, Poll, don’t you think I might write anyway? He can’t stop me, after all. And
plain politeness might make him reply so that at least I would know he was still alive.’

But Polly was shaking her head. ‘That’s the way to get really hurt,’ she observed wisely. ‘Remember, queen, he is now in possession of your address; even if you were to move he knows he could send a letter to Castletara, secure in the knowledge that Feena or Johnny would make sure that it reached you. You really must learn not to hammer on a locked door. Your Con says in his letter – and I agree it is a beautiful letter – that you have both made new lives for yourselves, and, darling Dana, you have to accept that because of what you did you are no longer a part of his life. Go along with it, and maybe you’ll get him back one day. Fight it, refuse to listen to what he’s saying, and you’ve lost the battle.’

Dana thought this over, and just as the bus came to a juddering halt outside the Freeway Cinema she nodded her head. ‘All right, I’ll just write a couple of lines saying I understand. I won’t say anything that needs a reply, I promise; in fact, you can write the letter for me and I’ll copy it out word for word. Agreed?’

Polly nodded and jumped to her feet to join the queue of passengers waiting to leave the bus. Neither girl spoke again until they were hurrying down the side passage which led to the staff entrance, and then Dana said, ‘Polly Smith, you’re years younger than me and not nearly as clever, but you’ve got something I don’t seem to possess, and that’s common sense. And now we won’t mention Con again until you write that letter for me this evening.’

Polly agreed to this and showed Dana a cheerful and optimistic face whenever their paths crossed in the course
of the day, but though she did not intend to show it her heart bled for her friend. The image of a snail torn from its shell haunted her, and though the letter to Con which they dispatched the next day was both short and to the point, Polly longed for the young man to reply, to give her friend at least some hope of an eventual reconciliation. Both she and Dana hurried to meet the postman for the next couple of weeks, but no reply came. And perhaps it’s for the best, Polly told herself as she sorted the letters. Perhaps snails can grow new shells if they are forced to do so.