Another Man’s Child. Anne Bennett
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at the two girls. ‘Enjoying yourselves?’ he asked.
‘We’ve only just got here,’ Norah pointed out, but Celia said, ‘I think it’s quite exciting. It’s nothing like the church hall is normally.’
‘No indeed it isn’t,’ Tom said as the band struck up the music for a four-hand reel. He asked, ‘Now will you be all right? I promised Sinead a dance.’
‘Then go on,’ Norah said. ‘There are lots of people I want to introduce Celia to.’
Tom left them as Norah slipped her arm through Celia’s. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘There really are lots of people I want you to meet, men as well as girls, and I think I can guarantee that, looking as you do, you will be up dancing most of the night and won’t give a thought to Mr McCadden.’
In a way Norah was right for Celia proved a very popular girl. She was slight in build, the sort of girl that the men she was introduced to wanted to protect, and so light on her feet as she danced the set dances and jigs and reels and polkas that she loved. Not even Father Casey looking about him with disapproval could quell Celia’s enjoyment. And yet she couldn’t get Andy McCadden quite out of her mind and every time she caught sight of him his brooding eyes seemed to be constantly fastened on her.
They lined up for the two-handed reel and Andy suddenly left the bar and joined the line with another woman. It was the sort of dance when the girls started with one partner but danced with different men in the set until they ended up back with their original partner and so at one point Celia was facing Andy. As they moved to the centre Andy spoke quietly through the side of his mouth, ‘Your sister is trying to keep us apart.’ Celia didn’t answer – there wasn’t time anyway – and the second time they came near to one another he said, ‘D’you ever walk out on Sunday afternoons?’ and the third and last time they came close he said, ‘We could meet and chat.’
Before Celia had time to digest what Andy had said, never mind reply to it, she was facing another partner and the dance went on and she was glad that she knew the dance so well and didn’t have to think much about it because her head was in a whirl with the words Andy had whispered to her. As the dance drew to a close and she thanked the man who had partnered her, she had to own that Andy was right about one thing: Norah had taken a distinct dislike to Andy McCadden and was going to do her level best to keep them apart. Celia thought she had a nerve. Norah was prepared to swan off to America, upsetting everyone to follow her dream, and she had told Celia she was too fond of trying to please people and she had to stop that and look to her own future. Now Celia wasn’t sure that Andy McCadden would be part of that future, she was a tad young to see that far ahead, but what was wrong with just being friends or, at the very least, being civil to one another? Norah didn’t have to treat him as if he had leprosy.
She was sitting at a table alone for once, a little tired from all the dancing, and she scanned the room for Tom and Norah, just in time to see Tom leading Sinead outside. Norah was nowhere to be seen and suddenly Andy was by her side again with another glass of apple juice in his hand.
‘Thank you,’ she said as she took it from him without the slightest hesitation and drank it gratefully.
‘You look as if you were in need of that,’ Andy said as he sat on the seat beside her.
‘I was thirsty,’ Celia admitted. ‘It’s all the dancing.’
‘And tired, I’ll warrant.’
‘Yes a little.’
‘That’s a pity.’
‘Why?’
‘They are playing the last waltz,’ Andy said. ‘I was going to ask you to dance with me but if you are tired …’
Celia hesitated, for she knew the last waltz was special and she shouldn’t dance it with a man she hardly knew. Andy saw her hesitation and said, ‘Or perhaps you think your brother and sister would not approve.’
Andy wasn’t to know, but his words lit a little light of rebellion in Celia’s heart. What right had Norah and Tom to judge her? All she was proposing to do was dance with a man she had spoken to a few times in open view of everyone. It wasn’t as if she was sneaking outside like Tom with Sinead, who might well be up to more than just holding hands, and she had no idea where Norah was. And so she smiled at Andy and, at the radiance of that smile, Andy felt a lurch in his stomach as if he’d been kicked by a mule.
‘I’m not that tired, Andy, and I would love to dance with you,’ Celia said.
She stood up and Andy took her by the hand and she glided into his arms. As he tightened them around her she felt a slight tremor that began in her toes run all through her body. Andy felt it too and it aroused his protective instincts and he held her even tighter. ‘You’re shivering. Are you afraid?’
‘No,’ Celia answered, ‘I’ve never been less afraid than I am at this minute. I don’t know why I’m trembling so much, but it isn’t unpleasant.’
‘Oh that’s all right then,’ Andy said with a throaty chuckle and swept Celia across the floor with a flourish and that’s what Norah saw as she came back into the hall.
Had Norah heard the conversation between Celia and Andy McCadden she would have been further upset because, as she re-entered the hall, Celia was looking at Andy as if he had taken leave of his senses as she said, ‘I can’t just take off like that on a Sunday afternoon.’
‘Why not?’
‘It would be thought odd,’ she said. ‘It’s not something I ever do.’
‘Don’t see why not,’ Andy persisted. ‘It’s a normal thing to do, to go for a walk on a Sunday afternoon. What do you usually do?’
That was the rub, Celia thought, for she normally did nothing; that is, she worked harder than any other day in the week and so did Norah and their mother, for from the minute they returned from Mass, light-headed with hunger, they would be cooking up a big breakfast and barely had they eaten that and cleared away than they started on the dinner. The washing-up after that Sunday dinner seemed to take forever and while Celia and Norah tackled that Peggy would make some delicacies and pasties to be served after tea.
Then sometimes Norah would take up the embroidery she was so fond of. The young ones would be playing outside, Dermot would be going to meet with other young fellows in the town like himself, Tom off to see Sinead, and her parents would doze in front of the fire. Celia loved to read but all she was allowed to read on Sunday was the Holy Bible and she thought it the dullest day in the week and suddenly going for a walk seemed a very attractive prospect.
And yet she hesitated, for she knew however bored she was on Sunday, walking out on the hills with a man would not be viewed as a viable alternative. ‘I don’t know you,’ she said at last.
‘You do,’ Andy insisted. ‘I am Andy McCadden, second son of Francie McCadden and trying to make his way in the world.’
‘That’s not it,’ Celia said. ‘I mean, I know who you are but that is not the same as knowing a person.’
‘Well wouldn’t we get to know each other better if we walked and talked?’ Andy said. ‘Isn’t that what it’s all about?’
‘Mm, I suppose,’ Celia conceded and then shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t be let.’
‘Well that’s a real shame,’ Andy said as the waltz drew to a close and he continued to hold Celia as he went on, ‘I would say bring your sister but she seems to hate my guts – she’s looking daggers at us now.’
Andy was right. Celia glanced across at Norah and saw her eyes smouldering in temper. She felt her stomach give a lurch for she knew she was for the high jump and then, as Norah gave a sharp jerk of her head, she said, ‘I’ll have to go.’
‘All right,’ Andy said. ‘But if you are ever allowed to make your own mind up about things, I shall be walking around Lough Eske tomorrow afternoon if the weather is middling. Dinny