BRIDGET HAD TAKEN flowers to the churchyard every Saturday, and this Saturday was no different.
Twenty years ago, she had made a promise to a friend, and though she had been many things in her life, some of which she was not proud of, it was not in her nature to break a promise.
Stooping to lay down the posy of white and yellow narcissi, she dug into her pocket and took out a white envelope. Then she held it up, almost as though she thought little Jamie could see it. ‘I had a letter from yer mammy this morning,’ she murmured in her soft Irish lilt. ‘At long last, she’s coming to see us. What d’you think o’ that, eh? Ah, sure, it won’t be easy for yer mammy … what with a family in the cottage an’ the river only a spit away, as if nothing bad ever happened there. But we all know different, don’t we, eh?’
Drawing a deep breath through her nostrils, she blew it out in a great sigh. ‘Ah, but she’s a brave woman, yer mammy. After you were took, she went away with dear Barney. She made a new life and though we’ve written time and again, we’ve not clapped eyes on each other these many years.’
When a dewdrop appeared on the end of her nose she cuffed it away. ‘There’s a chill wind brewing,’ she said. ‘I’d best be going, or my knee will seize up again.’ She chuckled. ‘I’m not so young as I was, more’s the pity, but I can’t let the years get the better of me, ’cause once I do that, I’m finished.’ She squared her shoulders. ‘Inside, I’m still the young woman who fought and clawed her way to the top.’
After rearranging the posy in a nicer position, she clambered to her feet, groaning as she straightened up. ‘The old bones are beginning to complain, but the mind’s as quick as it ever was.’ Bridget was thankful for the good health she enjoyed. It meant she could keep to her schedule and stay one step ahead of advancing years.
She rubbed her sore knees and for a moment was quiet in contemplation. ‘In some ways it might be better if yer mammy never came back, poor wee thing,’ she said, ‘but then I wouldn’t see her, would I? An’ she wouldn’t see you, an’ that would be a terrible shame, especially when it’s taken her so long to make this particular journey.’
The man’s kindly voice startled her. ‘You know what they say about people who talk to themselves?’
Swinging round, she almost fell over. ‘Jaysus! I almost had a heart attack. What d’you want to creep up on me like that for?’
The man apologised. ‘I wasn’t creeping up on you,’ he said. ‘It’s just that I’ve seen you so often down here, I thought I might come up and say hello.’
Slim and tidy, with a pleasant bearded face, something about him jogged Bridget’s memory. ‘Have I seen ye somewhere before?’ she asked. ‘You look familiar.’
He laughed at that. ‘Isn’t that what the men are supposed to say when they see a woman who takes their fancy?’
Bridget could see the funny side. ‘Ah well now, it’s not that I’m after taking your fancy,’ she joked in return. ‘I really do believe I’ve seen ye somewheres before.’
Offering the hand of friendship, he introduced himself. ‘The name’s Oliver Rogers.’
Bridget shook his hand. ‘An’ how d’you do then, Oliver Rogers.’ Suddenly she was blushing to the roots of her hair. ‘Ah, now I know where I’ve seen ye. That’s it! You used to visit my old place … Gawd Almighty! Sure, that’s more years ago than I care to remember.’
He laughed. ‘You’re right. It must be at least twenty-four years since I climbed the steps to spend an hour or so with one of your girls.’
Bridget nodded. ‘If I remember aright, you always asked for Judy.’
‘That’s right, I did.’ He seemed embarrassed. ‘But only because she was the nearest to you I could get … same red hair and that wonderful bubbly nature. It was always you I wanted, Bridget. You were the loveliest of them all, but you were always just out of reach.’
Like a young schoolgirl on her first date, Bridget protested, ‘Away with you! Why would you want me, when you could have the pick of my girls?’
He gazed at her for a moment, before answering softly, ‘We can’t help who we fall in love with, can we?’
For the first time in her life, Bridget was lost for words. When she did speak, her voice was alive with anger. ‘Soft talk, is it? I expect you’ve found out that I’ve made it good and you want a slice of it. Well, aren’t you the cunning blighter, eh? In love with me, you say? Hmh! I know what you’re after, so I do.’ She wagged a finger at him. ‘I’m far too canny to fall for all that nonsense, so ye’d best be on yer way, before ye see a side to me you wouldn’t like! Go on, be off with you! I’ve no wish to renew our acquaintance. What’s more, I can’t be wasting the day talking to the likes o’ you. I’m a busy woman, so I am.’
With that she turned on her heel and went smartly down the path, muttering to herself and cursing. ‘Bloody maniac! Coming up behind me like that. Does he think I were born yesterday? Sure, I’ve worked hard to get where I am today. I started with nothing and fought my way up. Now I’ve got a good life and a healthy bank-balance, I’m not about to share it with some crafty, grasping old bugger!’
She stole a glance behind. Looking very sorry for himself, the man was standing right where she left him. ‘Be Jaysus! I’ve a good mind to go back and smack him one, so I have.’ She clenched her fist and thrust it into her pocket. ‘Just let him try it again, that’s all.’
‘Bridget!’ His voice followed her. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you. Come back … let’s talk.’
‘Sod off!’
‘Please, Bridget! I’m sorry if I spoke out of turn.’
‘Ye heathen! You’d best be gone, or ye will be sorry!’
‘Don’t go … BRIDGET!’
Ignoring his plea, Bridget climbed into her beloved Hillman Minx. Losing no time in case he might follow her, she shut the door and turned on the engine.
‘Bloody cheek!’ Stamping her foot on the clutch, she slammed the car into gear. Lurching forward, it jerked into a spasm and for a moment she almost lost control. ‘Come on, come on!’ She kicked on the accelerator and it took off at a crazy pace, throwing her back in the seat.
Oliver Rogers was right behind. When the car shot forward, with the wheels skidding and squealing, the hail of dust and muck thrown up from the hoggin-path covered him in a thick cloud. ‘You’re still a damned lunatic!’ he yelled. But Bridget was already out of earshot.
He brushed himself down. ‘That’s my girl,’ he chuckled. ‘You might think I’m after your money, but nothing could be further from the truth.’
Walking the few steps to the large, sleek Humber, he climbed in and watched as Bridget’s car skidded and danced all the way down the road. ‘You’re a bit older, with a few more wrinkles and greying hair,’ he nodded approvingly, ‘but you’re still the same lively little devil you always were.’
