Colm Tóibín: Brooklyn

She saw Jack as soon as she descended from the boat. She did not know whether she should embrace him or not. They had never embraced before. When he put his hand out to shake her hand, she stopped and looked at him again. He seemed embarrassed until he smiled. She moved towards him as though to hug him.

"That's enough of that now," he said as he gently pushed her away. "People will think…"

"What?"

"It's great to see you," he said. He was blushing. "Really great to see you."

He took her suitcases from the ship's attendant, calling him "mate" as he thanked him. For a second, as he turned, Eilis tried to hug him again, but he stopped her.

"No more of that now," he said. "Rose sent me a list of instructions, and they included one that said no kissing and hugging." He laughed.

They walked together down the busy docks as ships were being loaded and unloaded. Jack had already seen that the transatlantic liner on which Eilis was to sail had docked, and, once they had left the suitcases in the shed as arranged, they went to inspect it. It stood alone, massive and much grander and whiter and cleaner than the cargo ships around it.

"This is going to take you to America," Jack said. "It's like time and patience."

"What about time and patience?"

"Time and patience would bring a snail to America. Did you never hear that?"

"Oh, don't be so stupid," she said and nudged him and smiled.

"Daddy always said that," he said.

"When I was out of the room," she replied.

"Time and patience would bring a snail to America," he repeated.

The day was fine; they walked silently from the docks into the city centre as Eilis wished that she were back in her own bedroom or even on the boat as it moved across the Atlantic. Since she did not have to embark until five o'clock at the earliest, she wondered how they were going to spend the day. As soon as they found a café, Jack asked her if she was hungry.

"A bun," she said, "maybe and a cup of tea."

"Enjoy your last cup of tea, so," he said.

"Do they not have tea in America?" she asked.

"Are you joking? They eat their young in America. And they talk with their mouths full."

She noticed that, when a waiter approached them, Jack asked for a table almost apologetically. They sat by the window.

"Rose said you were to have a good dinner later in case the food on the boat was not to your liking," her brother told her.

Once they had ordered, Eilis looked around the café.

"What are they like?" she asked.

"Who?"

"The English."

"They're fair, they're decent," Jack said. "If you do your job, then they appreciate that. It's all they care about, most of them. You get shouted at a bit on the street, but that's just Saturday night. You pay no attention to it."

"What do they shout?"

"Nothing for the ears of a nice girl going to America."

"Tell me!"

"I certainly will not."

"Bad words?"

"Yes, but you learn to pay no attention and we have our own pubs so anything that would happen would be just on the way home. The rule is never to shout back, pretend nothing is happening."

"And at work?"

"No, work is different. It's a spare-parts warehouse. Old cars and broken machinery are brought in from all over the country. We take them to pieces and sell the parts on, down to the screws and the scrap metal."

"What exactly do you do? You can tell me everything." She looked at him and smiled.

"I'm in charge of the inventory. As soon as a car is stripped, I get a list of every single part of it, and with old machines some parts can be very rare. I know where they're kept and if they're sold. I worked out a system so everything can be located easily. I have only one problem."

"What's that?"

"Most people who work in the company think they're free to liberate any spare part that their mates might need them to take home."

"What do you do about that?"

"I convinced the boss that we should let anyone working for us have anything they want within reason at half the price and that means we have things under control a bit more, but they still take stuff. Why I'm in change of the inventory is that I came recommended by a friend of the boss. I don't steal spare parts. It's not that I'm honest or anything. I just know I'd get caught so I wouldn't risk it."

As he spoke, he looked innocent and serious, she thought, but nervous as well as though he was on display and worried how she would view him and the life he had now. She could think of nothing which might make him more natural, more like himself. All she could think of were questions.

"Do you see Pat and Martin much?"

"You sound like a quiz master."

"Your letters are great but they never tell us anything we want to know. And Pat and Martin's letters are worse."

"There's not much to say. Martin moves around too much but he might settle in the job he has now. But we all meet on a Saturday night. The pub and then the dancehall. We get nice and clean on a Saturday night. It's a pity you're not coming to Birmingham, there'd be a stampede for you on a Saturday night."

"You make it sound horrible."

"It's great gas. You'd enjoy it. There are more men than women."

They moved around the city centre, slowly becoming more relaxed, beginning to even laugh sometimes as they talked. At times, it struck her, they spoke like responsible adults-he told her stories about work and about weekends-and then they were suddenly back as children or teenagers, jeering one another or telling jokes. It seemed odd to her that Rose or their mother could not come at any moment and tell them to be quiet, and then she realized in the same second that they were in a big city and answerable to no one and with nothing to do until five o'clock, when she would have to collect her suitcases and hand in her ticket at the gate.

"Would you ever think of going home to live?" she asked him as they continued to walk aimlessly around the city centre before having a meal at a restaurant.

"Ah, there's nothing there for me," he said. "In the first few months I couldn't find my way around at all and I was desperate to go home. I would have done anything to go home. But now I'm used to it, and I like my wage packet and my independence. I like the way the boss at work, or even the boss in the place I was before, never asked me any questions; they both just made up their minds about me because of the way I worked. They never bother me, and if you suggest something to them, a better way of doing things, they'll listen."

"And what are English girls like?" Eilis asked.

"There's one of them very nice," Jack replied. "I couldn't vouch for the rest of them." He began to blush.

"What's her name?"

"I'm telling you nothing more."

"I won't tell Mammy."

"I heard that before. I've told you enough now."

"I hope you don't make her come to some flea-pit on a Saturday night."

"She's a good dancer. She doesn't mind. And it's not a flea-pit."

"And do Pat and Martin have girlfriends as well?"

"Martin is always getting stood up."

"And is Pat's girlfriend English as well?"

"You're just fishing for information. No wonder they told me to meet you."

"Is she English too?"

"She's from Mullingar."

"If you don't tell me your girlfriend's name, I'm going to tell everybody."

"Tell them what?"

"That you make her come to a flea-pit on a Saturday night."

"I'm telling you nothing more. You're worse than Rose."

"She's probably got one of those posh English names. God, wait until Mammy finds out. Her favourite son."

"Don't say a word to her."

It was difficult to carry her suitcases down the narrow stairs of the liner and Eilis had to move sideways on the corridor as she followed the signs that led to her berth. She knew that the liner was fully booked for the journey and she would have to share the berth.