thick lips descended on Bridie’s, holding her so tight she was unable to get away. When she felt her uncle’s hand trailing up her leg, she was filled with panic. Lifting her foot, she stamped on his toes with all her might and Francis, taken unawares, slackened his hold slightly and she was able to twist out of his grasp. She stood facing him, her eyes sparkling with anger, and her chest heaving. ‘What d’you think you’re doing, Uncle Francis?’
Francis was angry with himself. What had compelled him to grab Bridie like that? He’d fought the attraction this long while and now … now, to give in like this. But it would never do for her, for anyone, to guess his thoughts and so he answered angrily:
‘What d’you mean, what am I doing? You could see what I was doing, giving you a kiss and cuddle, as I’ve done since you were a child. There was no need to make such a fuss and near lame me in the process.’
Doubts began to creep into Bridie’s mind. Had she read too much into what Francis had done? True, the kiss was one he’d never given her before and she hadn’t liked it much, but that could have been because he was drunk. It could all have been down to the drink. Maybe she’d exaggerated the whole thing. She must have done, she told herself, for her uncle Francis would never hurt her, she was sure of that.
She felt rather silly as she said softly, ‘I’m sorry, Uncle Francis. I didn’t mean to offend you.’
‘Yes, well, we’ll say no more about it,’ Francis said. ‘I might have surprised you a wee bit and I’ve been drinking all day.’
Relief flooded through Bridie. That was it then. She’d been foolish. ‘You’ll not tell them at home, sure you won’t?’ she asked her uncle.
‘Not a bit of it,’ Francis replied. ‘Don’t fresh yourself. This will be just between us two.’
But for all Bridie’s relief, she tried to make sure after that that she was never alone with her uncle, especially when he’d taken a drink, for she saw his eyes on her, sometimes in a most disturbing way. She never tramped the hills again either and, on Fair Days, she either stayed around the farmhouse with her mother, or went into the town with her father and stuck like glue to Rosalyn.
She finished school in June and Sarah told her to have a wee holiday before looking for a job. Bridie hadn’t forgotten Terry’s threat, but it had been so long now with never a word that she’d pushed it to the back of her mind. She told herself it might be years before Terry was able to go to America.
She really wanted a job in the shirt factory in town beside Rosalyn, but she knew if Terry did leave, a job off the farm would be out of the question. It was too big for her father to manage on his own and she’d be the only one of the family left then. She’d have to stay and help him. Because she was the youngest and so small, she’d been protected from much of the work. Now, she faced the fact that if she was to be of any help to her father and not a hindrance altogether, she would have to learn, and fast, for farms carried few passengers.
She began to tail Terry as he went about his jobs and Terry, admiring her guts and determination, took time to teach her, even though he worried that some of the work might be too much for her.
‘Talk Daddy into getting someone in to help once I’ve gone,’ he told her one day. ‘I’m going to tell him you can’t manage because I don’t really think you’ll be able to do all I do. And for God’s sake, if you’re determined to take on the farm, stick out for a proper wage. It’s only fair and it’s important to have money in your pocket.’
Bridie knew all Terry said was true, but she couldn’t see her daddy hiring help. It went against his principles of it being a family farm. Maybe she’d grow a wee bit more yet before Terry was ready to leave and there was always Frank within calling distance. She was sure he’d give her a hand if she needed it. Rosalyn always said he had a soft spot for her. The point about a wage, however, was a good one. One reason for getting a job, as well as helping the family out, was to have money to spend as she wished.
One day in late July, when the warm sun shone in a sky of Wedgewood blue, Terry was working in the fields when he saw the postman, Abel Maloney, turn in the lane. It wasn’t that unusual, so Terry took little notice, until Abel hailed him. Almost every week, Abel carried letters to the McCarthy house from their sons in America and he knew their writing well, so he said to Terry, ‘Your brothers are after writing to you now too.’
Terry stared at the man for a second or two before the significance of what he said caused him to throw down his spade, leap the hedge and take the letter from his outstretched hand. He went to the privy – the only place he could think of where he wouldn’t be disturbed – and ripped the envelope open.
Dollar bills were folded inside the letter and Terry stuffed those into the pockets of his breeches and smoothed out the sheet of paper.
Okay kiddo,
I just might have a job for you at last. The factory are setting up new lines making waterproof mackintoshes and they’ll be up and running in three weeks or so. I’ll put your name forward, but there would be hundreds after each vacancy, so there is no way I can hold it for you and there will be a damned long wait for anything else if you let this one go. I presume you have primed Mammy and Daddy what you intended to do when the time was right so I advise you to waste no time in buying a ticket and getting your arse over here pronto. See you soon hopefully.
All the best
Johnnie
Excitement leapt inside Terry initially and then reality struck. It was about the very worst time to leave the farm with not even the hay gathered in. But then was there ever a good time to leave a farm? And as Johnnie said, if he passed this offer up, then he might as well say goodbye to his dreams of going to America altogether. Johnnie thought he must have discussed the possibility of him joining his brothers with their parents, but though they’d both sensed his dissatisfaction, the idea that he might leave the farm had never occurred to them and Terry wished now he’d given some hint of it. Well, he thought, that can soon be remedied. The sooner he told them the better for speed was of the essence, so he squared his shoulders and made his way to the farmhouse.
The resultant row was so fast and furious that Bridie fled to the bedroom and buried her head beneath the bedclothes. Sarah pleaded and cried and Jimmy thundered and roared while Terry shouted back. Francis and Delia were brought in to try to talk some sense into the boy and the following day Father O’Dwyer was called.
By then, Terry was barely speaking to his parents, but his determination to leave had not been altered at all though everyone had thought and said he was wrong, ungrateful, neglecting his filial duty. His parents, their farm and their welfare were, they said, his responsibility. Who was to help them now if he ran away like this? Surely to God he couldn’t expect his wee sister to take up the reins?
Bridie tried to keep out of it. She wanted no one to see the tears she shed, for it would be just another stick to beat Terry with. She knew she’d miss him more than anyone – it had been just the two of them for so long and she knew she’d be lonely. It wouldn’t have mattered so much if she’d been going into town to work; then there would have been Rosalyn and other girls to talk to through the day, but she knew it would be the loneliness as well as the workload that might wear her down now.
‘Do you hate me, Bridie?’ Terry asked, coming across her in the barn in tears. He’d fought all the people that opposed him and pleaded with him and yet it was Bridie, who had said so little, who played on his mind.
Bridie raised
