Anne Bennett - Mother’s Only Child

‘Mom—’

‘It’s my last word on the subject.’

The ring plopped through the letterbox, the day after Greg left. Greg’s mother opened the envelope and held the ring in the palm of her hand. She cried for Maria and the dream that had come crashing down on her head.

Knowing none of this, Maria skulked about the house for the first few days after seeing Greg, terrified of bumping into him.

Each day she’d wake with a heavy heart after a fitful sleep. It was as if she’d fallen into a pit of sadness and it tainted everything she did and said. Food tasted like sawdust, though the lump in her throat prevented her eating anything much. Never was she more glad of work, glad of the chatter of the girls that covered her own silence, and glad of the weary feeling after work, though she knew weariness alone didn’t necessarily signify a decent night’s sleep

She was worried which Mass Greg would attend on Sunday and she slipped into the one at nine o’clock, and looked around surreptitiously, but she was seen by one of Greg’s sisters. None of Greg’s brothers or sisters had been told about Greg, but they all knew. By eavesdropping on the raised voices, they’d put two and two together and, if there should be any doubt, one of them found the ring in the envelope that their mother had stuck behind the clock on the mantelpiece.

Now, that same girl, Josephine, sidled up to Maria as soon as the Mass was over, guessing why she was so edgy. ‘Greg’s gone,’ she said, with any preamble.

‘Gone! So soon?’

‘Well, banished is more the word.’

‘Banished!’

‘There was a terrific row,’ Josephine said. ‘We all know that our Greg did the dirty on you and none of us were too pleased with him. But Daddy and Mammy were furious. They told him to go and not come back, and none of us now are allowed to speak his name.’

Maria wondered if she had it in her heart to feel sorry for Greg, for she knew he cared for his family, but she felt nothing, as if his sister was talking about some stranger she hardly knew. It didn’t make her feel any better, but it meant she could stop looking over her shoulder every five minutes.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Please give your parents my regards.’

“S all right,’ Josephine said. ‘We all like you. You could still come. Mammy and Daddy would love to see you.’

But that time was linked to Greg, visiting the parents of the man Maria intended spending the rest of her life with. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ she said, ‘but thanks anyway.’

The following day in the chapel of St George’s Barracks, a sad little group gathered. Greg looked tall and handsome in his uniform, but Nancy was dishevelled, her face still discoloured and awash with tears, her eyes red-rimmed and her hair piled untidily on her head. But in front of her, for all to see, that no dress could hide, was the swell of her pregnancy.

The priest—Greg had insisted on a priest so that their marriage would be recognised in the Catholic Church—was a bit nervous of Nancy’s belligerent father, sitting glaring at his daughter in the front row. He wanted the marriage over speedily and was glad neither had plumped for nuptial Mass. In a matter of minutes, Nancy was Mrs Hopkins.

She thought it made little difference. Greg was going overseas, so she was going back to live at home with the father, who had terrorised them all since babyhood.

However, Greg wasn’t frightened of the man. He rather despised him as he would any who would hit a woman, and now he intended to see to it that marriage to him would protect her.

‘There’s to be no more heavy stuff,’ he told Nancy’s father sternly. ‘Never raise your hand to Nancy again, or you’ll have me to deal with. She is my wife now and not your responsibility.’

‘You young—’

‘There is nothing to be gained by calling me names,’ Greg snapped. ‘As soon as we can, we’ll get a place of our own, but until then, please treat Nancy with respect.’

There was a lot more Nancy’s father could have said, but looking Greg up and down he changed his mind and instead made do with a glare before leading his wife away.

Nancy’s eyes were shining. No one had ever stood up to her father before. ‘Oh, Greg,’ she breathed. ‘Oh, I love you so. I know you don’t feel the same and I’m sorry you’ve been pushed into this.’

Greg suddenly felt sorry for the girl for the shabby wedding with the reluctant bridegroom, and he drew Nancy into his arms. ‘I can’t say I love you,’ he said, for he thought she deserved honesty. ‘But I can say I like you, and like you a great deal. I knew what I was doing the last time I slept with you. Between us we have created a baby, part of you and part of me, and for that I could love you. I’m sure when we are a proper family and have some place to call our own, then we will be happy together.’

Nancy thought of her own parents’ turbulent marriage. ‘D’you think so?’ she said. ‘See, my mom and dad—’

‘Your parents are different people to us,’ Greg said. ‘I promise you two things: I will never raise my hand to you, nor will I be unfaithful. I might not have entered into this wholeheartedly, but now we are married I want to be a good husband to you and a good father to the child.’ He’d been avoiding Nancy’s eyes as he spoke, but he now took her chin and turned her to face him. ‘Will that do?’

‘Oh, Greg…‘ Tears sparkled in Nancy’s eyes again, but they were tears of joy. What more could any woman ask? Greg’s kiss, mindful of Nancy’s puffy lip, was tender, and it caused such a feeling of exhilaration in Nancy that she felt she could have floated to the ceiling.

‘So the way’s clear for you, dear brother, now lover boy Greg is out of the way,’ Seamus said to Barney a month after he heard about the split.

‘She doesn’t know I exist,’ Barney said gloomily. ‘Not like that, anyway.’

‘Prove you do.’

‘How d’you propose I do that?’

‘You could try wining and dining her.’

Barney shook his head. ‘She’s changed,’ he said. ‘She’s sort of sad all the time. I don’t think she’s thinking about men at the moment.’

‘Well, get at her through the old folks, then, so she starts to notice you.’

‘Not the mother,’ Barney said. ‘She gives me the willies, the mother, but her father’s all right. Fact is, I’ve thought for a while it’s a bloody shame for him to be lying in bed with the sun shining outside. Now that spring’s definitely here, I could push him about in a wheelchair on fine afternoons.’

‘You got a wheelchair?’

‘No, but I’m sure the doctor can get a loan of one from the hospital or some such place.’

Maria, when he broached the subject one day, after Sam had gone to sleep, was doubtful. ‘What harm could it do?’ Barney asked.

Maria couldn’t think of any. ‘Come on, Maria,’ Barney went on. ‘It would be just like him sitting up in bed, and he manages that, all right. Surely it’s not right for him looking at four bare walls when there is an alternative, and it would free Dora in the afternoons.’

‘All right,’ Maria said. ‘Speak to the doctor. If he’s in agreement and can get a wheelchair then I don’t mind at all. But what about your job?’

‘Oh, I start early morning, so I’m finished by the afternoon,’ Barney said.

In fact they finished long before that—in the early hours of the morning sometimes—and would go home to sleep until hunger drove them to find out if they had anything in the house at all edible. But that wasn’t something he wanted to share with Maria just yet a while.

The doctor was so enthusiastic about the proposal to take Sam out that all Maria’s worries about it floated away. She trusted Barney to care for him, of course she did, and Sam liked the young man. Still, she arranged for the first outing to be on a Saturday when she could see to her father and be on hand if there were problems.