A Handkerchief for Maria - 24
Day 24
That's how your dad proposed and I was so grateful, but how could I tell him I wasn't sure? That I liked him a lot but didn't know if I loved him enough?
We hardly knew each other. I'd lost a man I thought was the one, and been treated badly by another. Apart from that, I had no experience to judge.
What I knew, what I've always known, is Billy was a good man and would look after me and mine. Even as he jiggled Josie on his knee, and my tiny son put his arms round the man's waist, I knew what my answer would be.
I've never regretted it, not really. Sometimes, when he comes home drunk or gets into one of his moods, I wonder. But he has always been there, right from that very first time with his truck outside Wicklow. And without him I wouldn't have my lovely girl.
*
There was no time to think, plan or worry. Billy and me had to marry next day. His commanding officer had given permission, but warned Billy they might be sent as reinforcements to the north-west where fighting had broken out. If they were, and we weren't married, there'd be no place for me in the barracks.
Billy had arranged for his best friend, Barney Connolly, and his wife Marion, to be witnesses. I wanted us to marry in a Catholic church but Billy said that wouldn't be possible, it would be safer to go to St Matthias where an army chaplain could perform the service. We weren't the only couple that day, there were three other soldiers and their wives-to-be, all, like us, getting married in a rush. The church was a dour sort of place, square, with big columns out front. The only extravagances were the stained glass windows above the altar, which blazed like sapphires when the afternoon sun shone, as Billy and I repeated our vows.
My mother and father were both dead, and I'd no relatives or friends to invite, so the whole affair was over in no time. All of the couples went back to the barracks straight afterwards and in the evening, once we'd settled in our quarters, we met in the canteen for a drink and a bit of a dance. The new wives were friendly, all Catholics and in the same boat as me, and I was glad of them being nearby in the days to come.
Billy and I didn't stay late. It had been a whirlwind of a day and I needed to get Josie off to bed. It felt so strange sharing a place with Billy. Even though we'd been going out for months we'd never spent a night together, not had more than a kiss and a cuddle in the pictures. There's no need for details on what happened on that first night but he was kind and I was exhausted, and we both fell asleep with smiles on our faces.
*
October 1922, Billy and I married and my countrymen shooting and bombing each other like they'd already forgotten the men they'd lost fighting the British. Every day there were reports of battles north, south, east and west across the country. Josie and I were safe in Phoenix Park but my new husband still had to go out on patrol most days.
The married quarters were three terraces of small cabins on the edge of the barracks, well away from the accommodation of the single men. Ours had a living room with a stove for cooking, a bedroom barely big enough for two and a tiny box-room where Josie's cot took the whole space. Most of the wives were English, with only four
of us Irish, who were put together at one end, as far away from the other families as possible. Every time an Irish woman passed by an English billet she'd be called names and told to clear off out of the camp. The worst were those who'd lost someone in the three years before the Free State was established, though they'd never dare say anything when Billy was with me.
He was up every morning at six o'clock for duty, so even after I'd made his breakfast it was a long day ahead. I'd usually take a walk to the parade ground, the long way round, behind the officers' quarters to avoid any nastiness, and Josie would watch the soldiers marching. Then maybe I'd call for a cup of tea to Maggie Cunningham, a red-haired neighbour with a daughter the same age as Josie. Maggie was from Donegal, had a fierce tongue on her and took no nonsense from the English wives. She'd knocked the door with some tea, milk and a bag of sugar on our first day and we'd got on well. Two weeks after I married, Josie and me were watching the morning drill when the rain began to pour so I lifted the child and hurried home on the most direct route. Half way there, two women in raincoats and scarves came out of a cabin. They blocked my path.
'Where you going?'
'Home. Let me pass. Please.'
'Not your home though is it? British camp this. Not Irish. Not for scum like you.' She turned to her partner. 'Don't want to be British this lot. Spent the last few years shooting our lads just to tell us.'
The second woman snorted. 'That's what I heard.'
My temper was rising but I knew there'd be more trouble if I lashed out so I tried again to reason with them. 'Let me through. My little boy's getting soaked.'
'Let the little B get soaked. Bit of luck the mongrel will get pneumonia and die.'
Now I was about to lunge when I heard Maggie Cunningham's voice.
'Don't, Maria. They're not worth it.'
Maggie was by my side, arms folded and her head tilted. 'Now ladies, what's the problem?'
The women looked at each other, backed away and said there was no problem.
'Just been welcoming your friend here to the barracks.'
Maggie linked my arm. 'That's nice. I wouldn't like to think you don't want her here. Husband's as good as your man any day. Proper soldier, not some office clerk.'
The two slunk back indoors and we continued round to Maggie's. We laughed but I was shaking inside.
That night I told Billy and he wanted to go round to have it out with their men.
'No, Billy. What good will that do. They'll only get back at me another way. Can't you get me away? Over to England?'
He rubbed his forehead. 'I don't know when that will be. We heard this afternoon we're moving out next week. All of us.'
'Oh, Billy, at last, I can't believe it. I'll start packing in the morning. It will be … Billy, what's wrong?'
He was shaking his head.
'There's rumours they'll not let us take our Irish wives straight away. You might
have to stay here until it's sorted out.' 'Why?'
'Because it's been said some blokes have married Irish girls for money, just so they can get to England.'
'But that's not us, Billy, is it?'
'I know it isn't but it might take a while to convince the powers that be.'
'Tell them we've been going out for ages, Billy. Tell them that… and tell them Josie's your little boy. That should do it.'
Billy looked like I'd slapped his face.
'How could I do that? How could you even ask me to do such a thing?' I started to cry.
'I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm saying. But we've got to do something. I can't stay here without you. I can't.''
*
The rumours turned out not to be true, thank God. Five weeks afterwards we packed our things and Josie and me, along with all the other wives and children, waved off the columns of soldiers as they marched away behind the military band. As soon as they left we were ushered on to buses which joined the convoy of trucks rolling through the gates towards the port.
The journey took two hours trundling behind the soldiers, along a route lined with people waving flags and an age later we were on board, with the boat's horn wailing as we sailed away to England.
This was the last time ever I saw Ireland. The last time I ever wanted to see it. *
Maria turns her key in the lock, pushes open the front door, and hangs her coat and scarf on the rack at the bottom of the stairs. Billy, dozing beside the wireless, shakes awake when she sits at the table. His wife's face tells him there's bad news.
'She's worse then?'
For a full minute she can't bring herself to speak. When she does, every sentence is broken by sobs.
'That Doctor Evans told me before I left that it would be tomorrow. He's a good man, took me into a private room and asked a nurse to bring me a cup of tea. Said she's not in any pain now and will just slip away.'
Maria turns away her head, squeezing her eyes shut.
"He said it would be fine for us to go in to sit with her, even outside visiting hours. Will you come, Billy?'
Her husband moves to sit beside her and takes her hand. 'I can't, love. Please don't ask me.'
'But why not? We should be with her at the end.'
'I know we should, but I'm such a coward. You're so much stronger, always have been. I can't sit there and see my little girl die.'
Maria pushes his hand away.
'Then you're not the man I thought you were, Billy Garner. I'm going to my bed, I need to be out early. You can get yourself round to Father McSorley and tell him your
daughter needs the last rites in the morning.'
She stands and drags her weary bones upstairs, undresses and climbs under the covers. Lying in the dark, Maria regrets what she said and yearns for Billy to follow, hold her in his arms, and tell her everything will be all right.