* * *
A short while later, they set out again, Bernadette settling down in the back seat for a little sleep, tired out from all the activity in the fresh air.
“Are you still seeing that fellow from Mullingar?” Oliver asked.
“I am,” Pauline said quietly, amazed at him being able to talk about ordinary things at such a terrible time.
“And how’s it all going?” he said. “Is it serious?”
“I suppose it’s more serious than it’s ever been,” she replied.
There was a silence. And then, just as the silence was becoming too uncomfortable for Pauline, Oliver said, “Do you really mean that, Pauline?”
“Yes,” she said quickly, “I do mean it.”
Oliver threw a glance over his shoulder at the sleeping child. “And what about her? Weren’t you serious about her father? Surely you must have been. Surely, you didn’t sleep with a man you didn’t have deep feelings for?”
Pauline’s face suddenly reddened with awkwardness and anger. “Leave it, Oliver! Just leave it!”
“What if he was suddenly free to marry you?” Oliver persisted. “What if he was suddenly free to be a proper father to Bernadette?”
“Don’t you dare!” Pauline said, her jaw clenching with rage. “Stop all this shite right now! I’m warning you, Oliver Gayle!”
Oliver put his foot down on the brake and pulled in to the side of the road. Again, he turned to check on the sleeping child. “Maybe it’s the best option for the both of us,” he said, reaching for Pauline’s hand. “Maybe it’s the chance for us both to make right the wrong we did. To make something good of all this mess . . . Maybe we could go to England together – make a fresh start, just the three of us.”
Tears sprang into Pauline’s eyes, and she dragged her hand out of his grasp. “How can you even think of it? How can you?” Her voice sounded ragged, as though it was torturing her having to keep it low enough not to disturb the child. “What we did was
terrible
! And to my own sister!” She moved now to find a hanky in her trouser pocket, and then dabbed her eyes. “I’ll never,
ever
forgive myself – and neither should you!”
“But nobody needs to know,” he argued. “There’s not a living soul knows that I’m Bernadette’s father. Haven’t we kept it a total secret since the child was born?”
“We have!” Pauline said. “We have kept it a secret – and it’s the only decent thing we’ve ever done!”
“I’m genuinely fond of Bernadette,” he whispered, “and surely it would be good for her? And when all’s said and done – she’s the only child I’m ever going to have.” When Pauline said nothing, he took it as a good sign. A sign that she might be considering his suggestion. “And you know I’ve always had feelings for you, Pauline, and you told me yourself that you had feelings for me. What happened between us was meant to be – there was always something there between us.”
Pauline turned very slowly to look at him, her eyes rimmed with tears. “Listen to me very carefully, Oliver – there has always been
something
between us. And that
something
happens to be my sister!”
“But – ”
Pauline held her hand up to silence his protests.
“Anything I ever felt for you is long gone.” She shook her head. “Long, long gone. And there’s nothing that will ever make me change my mind. I have much stronger feelings for Jack than I ever had for you, and he knows
everything
he needs to know about me.”
Oliver raised his eyebrows in question.
“Oh, if I have to tell him about you, Oliver – I will! Believe me, I will.” Her eyes narrowed. “If I have to tell anyone else to stop you pestering me – or to make sure you give Aisling a fair deal with everything – then make no mistake, I’ll tell them.”
“You might not come out of it too well, if you decide to speak out, you know,” Oliver warned her. “It wouldn’t look too good for you, at all, at all – when you think of your poor sister who was never able to have children.”
“Ah, well,” she said, in a resigned but strong voice, “it’ll depend on the story they hear from me. If they hear that my sister’s husband turned up in England unannounced and fed me drink and then took advantage of an innocent virgin girl –”
“You wouldn’t! You wouldn’t do that to me, Pauline – would you?” Oliver said, his face turning pale with shock.
“Make no mistake, Oliver, I
would,
” she said solemnly. “If you force me – I would. If you break the promise we both made. That secret must go to the grave with both of us.”
There was a little silence. “And in any case,” she added, “even if you weren’t Aisling’s husband – or any other woman’s husband – I’d never have anything to do with you after this last episode with both the girl and the sterilisation. I could never, ever trust you again. And I don’t blame poor Aisling one little bit.”
Oliver nodded, the sag of his face and shoulders telling his feelings.
“If you can get yourself sorted out,” Pauline told him, “and do the decent thing by Aisling, then I might consider you seeing Bernadette now and again. Everyone knows you are fond of her, and that she’s fond of you – so it wouldn’t look too odd if you were to take her to a pantomime at Christmas or some such thing.” She looked him square in the face. “But that’s
all
. Don’t go hoping for any more – because it’s never going to happen.”
Chapter 44
Aisling took a deep breath as she pushed open the door of Kearney’s shop. The delighted grin of Peenie Walshe and the anxious smile of Charles that greeted her did nothing to alleviate the feeling of dread that she had carried all morning – from the dark early hours, when she had woken up in the spare bedroom and decided to get the visit to her parents over and done with. The visit to impart to them the news about her marriage breakdown.
The news that would break her mother’s heart.
But there was nothing else for it – it had to be done.
She passed a few light-hearted comments to the boys, and then she went on through the back of the shop and into the house. Both her father and mother were in the kitchen, her mother just setting the table for the breakfast she had half-cooked in the frying-pan.
“How’s my girl?” Declan greeted her cheerily.
“Not too good,” Aisling said in a low, serious voice. She took her coat off and put it over the back of one of the chairs, then sat down in another.
Maggie went over to the big old range and moved the frying-pan to a cooler area on the top to slow down the cooking. “Well,” she said, in a flat, resigned voice, “what’s happened now?”
Aisling suddenly felt tears coming into her eyes. She had been determined not to get upset – to get this business over and done with as quickly as possible – but the tears were choking her nonetheless. “Oliver and I . . .” she started in a
croaky voice. “It’s all over . . . we’re finished for good.”
Maggie’s back and shoulders stiffened, but she said nothing. She kept her back to Aisling, her gaze focussed on the sizzling bacon and sausages.
“He got sterilised without telling me,” Aisling blurted out in a hoarse voice. “He had it done a few years ago over in England. That’s why we never had any children.”
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” her mother said, slowly turning around. “What in God’s name has he done?” Her face suddenly looking very old and very pale. “If it’s the truth – that’s a mortal sin, you know! A mortal sin . . .”
“I’ll leave you to it,” Declan said quietly, picking up his brown shop overall. “I think the lads might need a hand through in the shop.”
When the door closed behind him, Maggie came over to the table and sat down beside her daughter. “What are you going to do?” she asked. “How are you going to get over this?”
“There’s nothing to get over any more – he’s gone . . .” Aisling said, a tremor in her voice. “It’s all finished for good.”
Maggie suddenly leaned forward. “This is what you’ve been hoping for, isn’t it?” she demanded. “This is the excuse you’ve been looking for!”
“What do you mean?” Aisling said, a choking feeling gripping her throat.
“The American!” Maggie said. Her tight little fist pounded on the kitchen table, making the cutlery jangle and the milk spill from the full jug. “That fecking American! He’s the cause of all this trouble.”
Aisling swallowed hard to get rid of the tight feeling in her throat, and to keep back the flood of tears. “How can you say that?” she said. “How can you use Jameson Carroll as a scapegoat for all this? He had nothing whatsoever to do with me and Oliver. This trouble has been going on between us since the day we got married.” Aisling took a deep breath. “I’ve only put up with it because of all the upset it would cause in the family – and what a separation would mean in the eyes of the Church.”
“Well, I’m relieved to hear you have some kind of a conscience,” her mother said, her voice ragged. “I’m relieved to hear that you have some regard for the Church – because your disgraceful carry-on over the summer made me think you had none!” She halted for a moment, the situation whirring around in her mind. “I think we might need to look to the Church for some kind of advice on this . . . but I’m sure they’ll manage to talk some sense into Oliver, and get him to go to Confession – or to go for some kind of help.” She reached a hand out to touch Aisling’s arm. “I’m sure you’ll get help – they might even be able to speed the adoption business up when they hear the circumstances.”
Aisling gasped in shock. “You don’t honestly expect me to have him back after what he’s done?”
“You’ve no other choice,” Maggie said, her voice determined and steely. “He’s your husband.”
Aisling suddenly realised that the rest of the sad, sordid story would have to come out. “I spent yesterday evening in at the hospital in Tullamore with a girlfriend of Oliver’s . . . a girl from his drama group.”
Maggie’s eyes narrowed into two little slits.
“She phoned to ask me to bring her in some things,” Aisling went on, “and when I arrived, she announced that she was expecting Oliver’s baby.”
“Well,” Maggie said, “from what you’ve just said – that couldn’t be the case at all.”
“Exactly,” Aisling said. “And when Oliver walked in on us talking, the girl went hysterical and accused him of making her pregnant. Then she showed me her bandaged wrists – the real reason she was in hospital . It seems she had made a fairly serious attempt at suicide . . . and all because of Oliver.”
Maggie got up and went back over to the frying-pan on the cooker. She lifted a wooden spoon and started moving the bacon and sausages around. “I never would have believed such a thing would happen in my family . . . never, never,
never
.” Her eyes were now brimming with tears. “And
you
of all people
,
Aisling – you were the one I thought I could depend on! The only decent one out of the three. The only one with a professional job and a nice house to give a bit of dignity to the family.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say!” Aisling said, her voice suddenly rising. “Pauline’s a decent girl who made
one
mistake in her life – a mistake you’ve made her pay dearly for! And there’s nothing wrong with Charles – he’s highly intelligent and hard-working and he does everything you ask him to do.”
“With all this nonsense now,” Maggie said, “there’s not one of you I could hold my head up about – not one of you!”
The kitchen door opened and Pauline came in. “What’s going on?” she asked. “Daddy said there was some kind of trouble – ”
“It’s the business with Oliver,” Aisling said, standing up. She lifted her coat from the back of the chair. “I just came to tell Mammy and Daddy that we’re finished – that Oliver’s moving out, and we’re separating for good.”
Maggie suddenly slammed the frying-pan against the back panel of the cooker, sending splashes of bacon grease hissing over the hot surface. “No doubt you’ll go running back to the American and the simple son!” she said venomously. “Now you have your excuse, there will be nothing to stop you. I can just see you all cosy there with Jean and Bruce Harper. Oh, you’ll get on grand with them and their godless ways!”
“My Auntie Jean,” Aisling said, “is the nicest, kindest woman I’ve ever met – and it would do you good to think as much of your family as she thinks of hers!”
Maggie’s hand suddenly shot out and caught Aisling on the side of her face. “Don’t you dare quote Jean Harper to me! Don’t you dare quote that woman and her blasphemous family to me!”
“For God’s sake!” Pauline shouted, moving between her mother and sister.
Aisling stood rooted to the spot – unable to believe that her mother had actually slapped her. Neither her mother nor her father had laid a hand on her since she was a child. And now this.
“Come on,” Pauline said, helping Aisling into her coat. “There’s no reasoning with her when she’s like this. I’ve had a few slaps myself off her since I came back to the house, but I’m not going to stand and watch it happening to you. Not when I know what Oliver Gayle has done to you.”
“Hang on, Pauline,” Aisling said quietly. “I’m not fi
nished –” She turned to her mother. “For your informatio
n, I’ve no intention of going back to America to Jameson Carroll.” She felt a stab in her heart even as she said his name. “But it’s not because I don’t want to – it’s because I’ve left it too late.” Her voice was higher and stronger now. “I should never have come back here – I should have taken my chance when I had it – because I truly loved him.”