Barbara Bradford - A Woman of Substance

Emma cut into Blackie’s thoughts when she asked, ‘Yer said afore yer were a black Irishman. What’s that, then?’ Blackie turned to Emma and saw that the stark strained look had disappeared from her face.

His eyes held a mischievous glint as he said, ‘Well, mavourneen, not a blackamoor from Africa, as ye suspected, but a man with my colouring, the black hair and the black eyes ’tis said we inherited from the Spanish.’

She had been about to ask him what ‘mavourneen’ meant, but this last statement so astounded her the question was swept out of her mind. ‘Spanish! There aren’t no Spanish in Ireland. I knows better’n that!’ Emma scoffed with a degree of fierceness, her eyes flashing. ‘I’ve been ter school, yer knows,’ she informed Blackie as an afterthought, and proudly, wondering if he thought she was a fool.

Blackie was amused by her reaction, but he kept a straight face. ‘Then, being as how ye are such an ejicated young colleen, ye must be a knowing that King Philip of Spain sent a great Armada to invade England in the time of Queen Elizabeth. ’Tis said that some of the galleons foundered and sank off the coast of Ireland and that the survivors, Spaniards all, settled in the Emerald Isle. ’Tis them, they say, the black Irish are descended from, and maybe that’s the God’s truth, I am thinking.’

‘I know about Spain and that Armada, but I didn’t know owt about the Spaniards living in Ireland,’ said Emma, looking up at him carefully.

There was such scepticism in her eyes that Blackie slapped his leg and roared with laughter. ‘Faith and it’s doubting me that she is! But ’tis the truth I be telling ye, Emma. On the heads of the Blessed Saints I do swear it’s the truth I am speaking, mavourneen.’

Emma now said challengingly, ‘Hey, what does that mean, that word “mavourneen”? Yer keep calling me that, Blackie. I never did hear such a word afore. It’s not rude, is it?’

Blackie shook his head, his vital curls rippling and dancing as he did, the perpetual laughter flickering in his eyes and across his wide mouth. ‘It’s the Irish word for dear or darlin’, Emma. Like the word “luv” the Yorkshire folk are always using. It ain’t no rude word, little colleen. Affectionate is the best way of describing it, I am thinking. Besides, who would be rude to a spry young ejicated lady like ye?’ he finished, adopting his most serious voice, his most gallant manner.

‘Oh, aye,’ Emma said, a flick of that hard Yorkshire scepticism noticeable in her voice.

There was a small silence and then, half turning and touching his arm impulsively, she asked, ‘Do yer live in Leeds then, Blackie?’ Her face was suddenly animated and interested and he sensed a new excitement in her.

‘I do. I do. Sure and it’s a grand town. Have ye ever been there, Emma?’

Her face fell. ‘No. But I will go one day! Me dad promised ter take me on a day trip, and I knows he will when he can spare the time like.’

And the money for the fares, Blackie thought astutely. But detecting the lack of conviction in her voice, and sensing her dejection, he said vigorously and with some positiveness, ‘Sure and he will, Emma! Faith and ye will find it the most exciting place. Aye, ’tis exceedingly exciting. And busy! A virtual metropolis, I am thinking. It has great arcades with the most wondrous shops filled with grand finery for the ladies, and the gents, too. Yes, finery like a queen would wear, Emma. Silk and satin gowns beyond description. Beautiful hats with great feathery plumes and veils, fancy stockings and soft leather buttoned boots and parasols and reticules. All ye little heart could be desiring. And silk cravats for the gents as can afford ‘em. Aye, and diamond stickpins, too, and ebony walking canes with silver knobs and sleek top hats. Such finery like ye never did see in ye whole life, I am thinking, Emma.’

Blackie paused, and then observing the wonderment in her eyes, the vibrancy now illuminating her face, and acutely aware of her eagerness to hear more, he continued his description of Leeds. ‘There are elegant restaurants serving the most incredible delicacies to tempt ye palate, Emma. And dance halls, and a music hall called the City Varieties and plush theatres where they put on plays that come all the way up from London town. Why, I’ve seen Vesta Tilley and Marie Lloyd on the stage in Leeds meself, with me own eyes, mavourneen. Then there are the new tramcars. Amazing vehicles, to be sure, that run on tracks without the need for horses to pull ‘em any more. They go from the Corn Exchange to all parts of town. I have ridden on one, sure and I have. I sat on the top deck, that’s open to the world and the weather, viewing the town like a real gent. Faith and there are many wonders to see in Leeds, yes indeed.’

Emma’s eyes glowed, all the weariness and worry which had enveloped her earlier that morning miraculously dissipated, her imagination inflamed, and her emotions stirred most palpably by Blackie’s recital. She attempted, as always, to contain herself, but in her anxiousness for further information about this most extraordinary place, her voice rose and became shrill. ‘Why did yer got ter live in Leeds then, Blackie? Tell me more about it!’

‘I went to live in Leeds because there was no work in me native Ireland.’ His voice dropped, was low now and sad, yet there was no disgruntlement or rancour in it, only dim resignation.

‘It was me Uncle Pat, settled in Leeds for this many a year, who did bid me come over to be a working by his side as a navvy. Lots of work in Leeds, being as how it’s a growing metropolis, as I told ye afore, Emma. When I saw all the new manufactories going up and the mills and the foundries, as well as the handsome carriages and the elegant houses of the gentry, I thought to meself: Sure and this is the place for a boyo like ye, Blackie O’Neill, a spalpeen that’s not afeared of hard work, strong and brawny and a match for any man. This is indeed the place to be a-staying, faith and it is, for the streets are surely paved with gold! A man can make a fortune in Leeds, I was believing, so stay I did. That was five years ago. Now me Uncle Pat and me have our own business going. We do repair work and building for the mill-owners and the gentry. Doing well, sure and we are, little colleen. Small it is now, but I know it will be growing. Ye see, I aim to be rich one day. I am going to make meself a pile and be a millionaire!’

He tossed his head cockily and laughed, his face full of youthful optimism. He put his arm around her shoulders and said confidentially and with the utmost self-assurance, ‘I aim to get me a diamond stickpin and be an elegant gent, a real toff, that I do, mavourneen. On the Blessed Heads of the Saints, I swear I do!’

Emma had listened attentively. Blackie’s account had been thrilling and it had held her spellbound, had aroused all manner of longings within her. But it was that magical word ‘fortune’ that had made the most profound impact on her. Thoughts of fancy clothes and theatres were swept away. Those things were insignificant in comparison to Blackie’s revelations about the opportunities for making a fortune in Leeds. Here was someone after her own heart, who knew that money could be earned as well as inherited. Emma’s heart was pounding so hard she thought her chest would burst, and now it took all of her strength for her to retain her composure. She felt she could not speak and then, at last, ‘Can a girl like me make a fortune in Leeds?’ she asked, breathless in her anticipation of his answer.

This was the last thing Blackie had expected. He was dumbfounded. He stared down at Emma and saw the starveling girl who reached only up to his chest, so fragile and wan and undernourished, and his heart clenched with feelings of pity and protectiveness. Poor little mavourneen, he thought, I should have held me tongue. Fool that I am, filling her head with dreams of a better life, a world she’ll never see. He was about to answer her negatively when, with a terrible clarity, he recognized the gleam in her eyes for what it was-ambition, raw and inexorable. He took in the face, now suddenly stern in its fixity, the eyes blazing hard green light. It was the most implacable face he had ever seen and he was shocked by what he saw. Blackie felt a cold chill on the back of his neck and his Celtic intuition told him that she was in deadly earnest. He could not encourage the preposterous idea of her running off to Leeds, yet he must attempt to pacify her.