must have had the same thought as Francis, for Bridie was in great demand all night at the dance and had such a good time that she barely noticed her uncle at the bar, drinking steadily and watching her broodingly.
Lots of the young girls had their eye on some fellow or other and Bridie knew a lot of couples often began walking out from the Harvest Dance. ‘Anyone you fancy?’ said a girl in Bridie’s ear. ‘You have plenty of choice anyway, for you’ve seldom been off your feet all night. You must have danced with half the men in the room.’
But none of the men had stirred Bridie in any way. Quite a few had asked if they could see her again, begin walking out with her, and she’d immediately shied away. She had no wish to be unkind, and just said she was not ready for that level of commitment yet, but she saw the disappointment on all of their faces.
She refused to worry much about it though. She was here to enjoy herself and that’s what she intended to do and she told Rosalyn the same as the two went arm in arm back to the dance floor after the Harvest Supper.
It was as they came back into the hall that a girl said to Rosalyn, ‘Won’t you miss all this?’, the sweep of her arm taking in everything.
‘I suppose,’ Rosalyn muttered, her eyes avoiding those of her cousin.
‘What did she mean?’ Bridie asked when the girl was out of earshot.
It was obvious that Rosalyn was uncomfortable. Bridie saw her lick her lips nervously before she replied, ‘Didn’t your Aunt Ellen say? I saw her talking to Mammy when she came over and I thought
‘What are you on about?’
‘I’m … I’m leaving.’
‘Leaving?’
‘Leaving here. Leaving Ireland.’
‘Leaving Ireland?’ Bridie repeated. ‘Why, in God’s name? And don’t you think if I’d had just one sniff of that, I’d have been around to your house straight off to ask you about it?’
Of course Rosalyn knew: telling Bridie was what she’d dreaded most about the whole affair. ‘Why on earth are you leaving?’ Bridie demanded. ‘Do you mean really leaving, or just going away for a wee while?’
‘No!’ Rosalyn couldn’t let her think that. ‘You know my aunt Maria, well, Uncle Aiden has somewhere for them all in America now. But Maria can’t face the journey alone and is afraid of something happening to the weans, so she’s offered to pay my fare to go over with her.’
‘To what?’ Bridie cried. ‘Here you have a job – a life. What would you get in America?’
‘Experience,’ Rosalyn said. ‘Oh, I don’t know.’ She knew Bridie was hurt and upset and she wanted to explain it to her, make her see what a chance it was. Bridie knew, or she’d realise when the hurt had eased, that Rosalyn would never have been happy in rural Ireland all the days of her life. God! She’d made that plain enough from when they were in their early teens.
Now her young aunt had handed her the means to leave on a plate and her mother, far from opposing it, had urged her to go. She told Bridie this. ‘Mammy’s all for it. She says it’s a chance that might never come again. ’Course, the weans are older now and able to help more. Nora’s only a year behind Declan at ten. I was a fine hand in the house when I was ten and there’s no babies to see to now either. Mammy says I must go. She said these are opportunities that you must take when you’re single.
‘As for a job, I’m sure I could get one over there soon enough if I wanted one. Maria doesn’t want me to work, not at first anyway. Aiden earns good money and he wants me to stay with her too, for he says Maria is bound to feel strange at first. He thinks she’d settle better with someone of her own beside her.’
Bridie couldn’t believe it. Neither Terry leaving, nor Mary moving to Birmingham, had affected like this. Rosalyn had been living next door to her since they’d both been babies and they’d been inseparable ever since. She couldn’t visualise life without her. Even when Rosalyn began work and had been in town during the day, they’d still seen each other in the evenings and at the weekends. Unlike Rosalyn, who’d made other friends at work, Bridie had had no opportunity to do that. It had never bothered her. She’d never really needed anyone but Rosalyn.
Hurt and frightened of the loneliness she’d feel at her cousin’s departure, she spat out sneeringly, ‘Oh, that’s it then, you’ll be a skivvy for your sister-in-law. Fine job that will be.’
‘Don’t be like that, Bridie!’ Rosalyn cried. ‘I’m sorry I’m going, for your sake, and I’m going to miss you like crazy, but …’ She shrugged. ‘Maria can’t go on her own, not with the three weans so small. If your Mary asked you for help, you’d break your neck to do it and you know you would.’
She might like to, Bridie thought, but knew she couldn’t up sticks like Rosalyn could, no matter what fix Mary was in. The heavy cloak of duty and responsibility kept her successfully on the farm. A lump lodged in Bridie’s throat and she was scared she was going to cry. She fought to control herself; she couldn’t bear to make a holy show of herself like that. She swallowed the lump and suddenly she felt anger at the unfairness of life course all through her and turned once again on Rosalyn. ‘Go to bloody America then,’ she snapped. ‘And I hope it stays fine for you.’
‘Bridie …’
But Bridie turned away from her cousin. Tears had begun to seep from her eyes and trickle down her cheeks and she ran from the place lest anyone should see. She knew she had to move well away. Anyone could be about the hall outside: people out for a breath of air to cool off, courting couples – anyone. There was a little copse of trees not far from the hall so she made for there and leaned her head against a tree trunk. She could still see the twinkling lights of the hall and hear the laughter and tantalising music from inside and it cut into her very soul. It felt like a mockery, especially as she remembered how excited she’d been about the dance. At the thought of that, the tears came in earnest, almost bursting from her in a torrent.
She had nothing with her to wipe her eyes; she’d run in a panic, leaving behind her bag, her work boots and her stole. But she couldn’t go back for them, she’d look a sight and she knew her eyes would be puffy and red from crying and everyone would know something was wrong.
But then what should she do? She couldn’t go home yet; her parents might still be up and would wonder why she was back so early. They’d know she’d have been upset by something and wouldn’t rest till they got it out of her.
She’d take a walk, she decided. Her kid boots would be ruined, but no matter. It was precious few dances she’d go to after this one.
One person, the one who’d watched Bridie all night, had seen the altercation between her and Rosalyn. He’d seen Bridie’s flight and Rosalyn biting her bottom lip in consternation.
But he didn’t approach his daughter. Instead, he’d slipped outside and stood by the side of the hall and then, hidden by the velvety darkness, had begun to move forward. He’d watched Bridie approach the edge of the copse and had heard her tears, but he had not moved closer until he seen her enter the small wood and then he began to follow in earnest.
When
