Anne Bennett 3-Book Collection: A Sister’s Promise, A Daughter’s Secret, A Mother’s Spirit. Anne Bennett
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was annoyed and a little ashamed of himself for feeling that way because he was a grown man.
Biddy hadn’t spoken and Tom said, ‘Well, Mammy? What about it?’
‘She hasn’t even said the rosary yet,’ Biddy said.
Tom answered, ‘I’m sure God will understand the one night.’ And then he turned to Molly and said, ‘Get yourself to bed. You look all in.’
Molly gave a sigh of relief. She knew that for her grandmother this issue was not resolved and that she might suffer for it in the morning. That was another day, however, and not one that she was going to worry her head over.
She lay in bed and realised she was ridiculously excited to be going to Mass in the morning. For one thing, she would wear a dress, and then she would leave the farm, which was starting to feel a little like prison, and meet other people. Her toes curled in pleasurable anticipation of it.
Everyone at the church was interested in seeing Molly Maguire the next day. They had known she was coming. It was too small a place for anyone to keep anything secret for long. With the guards at the door of the cottage, and then the sending and receiving of telegrams, the whole community knew of the death of Nuala née Sullivan and her husband, and of the grandmother off to see to things.
When Tom had told Nellie McEvoy, the postmistress, his mother would be returning, first with both children and then just the girl, she had been amazed. Other women that she told felt the same way and a collection of townswomen had gathered in the post office to discuss it.
‘Didn’t think she’d be that bothered about any child of Nuala’s,’ Nellie said.
‘Well, no. I mean, she never even sent a scribe to her since her man died that time.’
‘Aye, and before that wouldn’t you have thought the sun shone out of young Nuala?’
‘You would,’ one said emphatically, and added, ‘Spoiling is good for neither man nor beast, and she had the child ruined altogether.’
‘Aye,’ another commented. ‘I own that she was a pretty enough wee thing and so kind and thoughtful, almost despite Biddy and all, but—’
‘It wasn’t the child’s fault,’ Nellie said. ‘She was a lovely wee thing, like a little doll, but you’d think there wasn’t another child in the universe to hear the mother talk.’
‘That’s right,’ agreed the first woman. ‘Blowing on about her all the time, till she would make a body sick.’
‘That’s why she took it so bad, likely, when the girl went off and married a Proddy, as Joe was after telling me before he took off for the States,’ another woman said. ‘Further to fall, see.’
The others nodded sagely and then Nellie commented, ‘Maybe that is why she taking the child in. Making it up to her, like.’
‘D’you think that she feels sorry for the way she went on – is that what you are saying?’ one woman asked, adding, ‘From what I know of Biddy, feeling sorry for something she does or says is not part of her make-up at all.’
‘Aye,’ Nellie said, ‘but this is death. Very final, is death, and that changes a lot of things.’
‘And,’ said the first woman, ‘she has taken the child in, there is no getting away from that.’
There were nods and murmurs of agreement.
‘So let’s all wait and see, and not have her tried by judge and jury beforehand,’ Nellie said.
‘Aye, you’re right,’ said another of the women. ‘Let’s all wait and see.’
And they did see, that first Sunday morning. Everyone saw, in fact. Those who could remember Nuala saw the resemblance to her in Molly, and they also were soon well aware, from the malice-ridden eyes Biddy turned on the girl and the brusque way she spoke to her, that she had not brought the child to live with her because she felt sorry for her. It was for other reasons altogether and not ones that were making the young orphaned girl happy.
Molly sensed the people felt sorry for her, and indeed many expressed this as they shook her by the hand, the priest, Father Finlay, amongst them.
‘In the midst of life there is death, Molly, and we must remember that,’ he told her predictably.
‘Yes, Father.’
‘And I am sure your parents are now reaping their reward in Heaven.’
‘Her father won’t be,’ Biddy said harshly and with satisfaction. ‘He’ll have descended to the fiery pit by now, where all sinners go.’
Ashamed at her grandmother saying that about her lovely father, Molly burst out, ‘He’s not. My father was no sinner.’
‘No sinner,’ Biddy repeated, and turned to the priest. ‘Went nowhere to worship, Father, neither church nor chapel. That’s why I took the girl. Couldn’t have left her there with the heathen of a grandfather, for he was the same as his son.’
The priest was embarrassed and whispered something noncommittal. Those close enough to hear what Biddy had said were looking askance at her and could clearly see how upset the poor girl was. Molly was, in fact, angry, and she wondered why her grandmother thought she had the right to judge her father. She knew not the slightest thing about him; didn’t know what a good kind man he had been. He didn’t go to church, that was true, but she knew a fair few who never missed Mass who were not half the man her father had been. And she knew that if God was the loving Father they were taught He was, then she was sure that He would treat her father fairly.
She didn’t attempt to say any of this, however, because she knew she would cry if she tried. Tom, who had stopped at the gate to talk to neighbours, had not seen any altercation and was unaware of any undercurrent until he saw the tears glistening in Molly’s eyes.
‘You all right?’ he whispered as he got closer.
Molly gave a brief nod.
‘You sure?’
Molly, seeing her grandmother was now out of earshot, said quietly, ‘I sometimes wonder if I will ever be right again, but it’s nothing that can be fixed here and now. But I’ll tell you one thing,’ she added fiercely. ‘I don’t care how sensible it is. I am not going to let my grandmother say what she likes about my parents and say nothing in their defence ever again.’
‘Molly—’ began Tom warningly.
‘No, Uncle Tom. I know what you are going to say,’ Molly said. ‘You must do as you see fit, but I will not let her or anyone else destroy the memories I have of my parents, for they were the best parents in the world to me and Kevin.’
She walked away from her uncle then and he watched her with worried eyes, knowing that if she stuck to her guns she was heading for extremely choppy waters.
When Molly entered the church and saw the painting of the Nativity scene, she could understand her uncle’s enthusiasm, because it was magnificent, especially with the sun glinting on the vibrant colours so that the whole thing looked almost lifelike. Somehow, the sheer beauty of it soothed her a little, and this was helped by the familiarity of the Mass, so that she let it all wash over her and give her a measure of peace.
After a very good dinner, Molly washed up while Tom took his ease by the fire with his pipe and the Sunday paper, but really he was watching Molly and as she put away the last plate he said, ‘I don’t suppose you would fancy a tramp amongst the hills this fine afternoon?’
Molly turned to her uncle with her eyes shining, for there was nothing, absolutely nothing, that she would like better. The baking for the Sunday tea had been done the day before and she could conceivably be free for an hour or two.
Biddy didn’t think so. ‘Don’t you offer to take the girl off out without as much as a by-your-leave.’
‘I wasn’t under the impression I had to ask permission