Dreams Can Come True (15 page)

“Neither of our families relied on the land fer a living,” said Bridget. “My dad was a shoemaker and Frank’s dad had this place, but we saw the poor people who suffered. Many came to sell their possessions on the market to raise money for their fare abroad. We were just about getting married then, weren’t we Frank? You’d done two years in the Army, but came back because yer dad wasn’t so well.”

“Aye, don’t remind me, Bridget. Whatever possessed me ter join the British Army, I’ll never know. I feel ashamed of meself when I look back ter those years. Anyway, we won’t get on to politics, when yer daughter gets back we’ll get Jack on his feet and put him in the donkey cart. Bridget’ll make yer a bottle of tea to take with yer, won’t yer Brid?”

The sun blazed down from the sky as Hannah chivvied up the donkey to get her to walk down towards the Killala road. Maggie felt Jack’s forehead. He was sweating, so she helped him out of his jacket and loosened the collar on his shirt. She was going to take him to the tailors the next morning and see if they had something off-the-peg to fit him there. She had remembered there was a tailors on the high street and hoped it was still trading after all these years.

The fields they were passing on the outskirts of the town were full of yellow gorse bushes. It was heath land; wild and rocky with small dense copses that Maggie remembered she used to skirt around. In the distance she could see the small islands that were dotted along the far coastline. Except for poor old Jack, she felt contented. Suddenly she felt glad that she was coming home.

“How far along, Mother? You said we would see a narrow cart track once we had passed St. Patrick’s Well.”

“It’s a bit further on yet, Hannah. I never used to walk along the road ter Ballina. I used to cut along the footpath by the waterfall and passed those woods over there. Filbey’s farm where I used ter work is over that way and have yer heard me mention Mrs. Dockerty? Her cottage was further up the path, near the farm.”

“Mrs. Dockerty? Isn’t she the mother of Eddie’s Uncle Johnny?”

“Yes, that’s true, but I doubt if she’ll still be living there. The poor old dear will be up at the cemetery, and that’s another thing I want ter do.”

“What, go to the cemetery?”

Maggie nodded.

“I grieved fer years ‘cos I wasn’t there to see me mother’s burial. Now, I can go ter see if they’re taking care of me parents’ graves.”

“Were they buried nearby in Killala?”

“No, in Ballina. We used to worship at a church at Inishpoint, but the ground there was never consecrated. Possibly because the church was so close to the headland, that they thought that one day the whole lot would fall into the sea.”

“Is this the lane, Mother? It’s very narrow and bendy. Hey up, Bertha, leave that pretty plant alone.”

As they travelled along the rutted cart track, Maggie felt full of nostalgia. She kept gripping Jack by his shirt sleeve, pointing out this and that to him.

“Look Jack, over there, see there’s Baunrosmore Island. Do yer remember when you and our Bernie walked out to it and you couldn’t get back because the tide came in? Look at the sand hills in the middle of the river. Remember when we used to catch those tiny eels? They only used ter come to Killala around harvest time. Oh, there’s the Filbey’s farm; we’ll stop here Hannah and I’ll help yer father down. Come on Jack, we’ll walk over and have a look at it all.”

Jack got down unsteadily and leant on Maggie, as they walked over to the farmyard. He rubbed at his eyes with his left hand as if he was clearing a mist away. He stopped and looked about him, Maggie held her breath. Was his memory returning? Had he remembered how he used to pass this building on his way to work every day? She caught his hand and looked into his face. His eyes began to focus on her and her heart leapt. Was this a beginning, a recognition? Then his gaze dropped and Jack looked down at his feet.

“Hannah, I think something happened then. Your father, I thought for a moment that he knew me. His eyes looked into mine for at least ten seconds. Oh, Hannah. Perhaps this place is going to help him. Get his mind back again!”

“Where else will he remember?” Hannah said excitedly. “What about the hamlet where you lived?”

“All gone now, me dears,” said a voice from within the farmyard. The person who the voice belonged to came up to the farmyard gate.

A tall thin man with light brown hair growing down to his shoulders, but not a lot up top, came out to meet them. He nodded pleasantly at Jack and Hannah, then looked puzzled when Jack turned away without acknowledging him.

“You’ll not remember me, but I knew your family. Maggie Mayo, isn’t it? Me parents had the pig farm up at Crosspatrick. I was just a tiddler when you upped and went. This place lay empty fer years after the Filbeys left, same with the row of cottages, except fer the Dockerty widow’s. But she’s bin gone this past two year; found her dead in her chair one winter’s morn, when I was passing bringing in the herd.”

“Oh, poor Mrs. Dockerty. Did yer get in touch with her sons? One of them was a friend of mine.”

“Didn’t have no address; couldn’t have written to him anyway. No, I had ter call on the parish to bury her, though her son wasn’t happy when he did turn up in the spring. But, I said to him, “What else could I have done?” Not seen him since. There’s the question of who owns the property now. It was hers, but it’s on my land. He sold her stuff to one of me labourers. That’s where Sean lives, in the middle house. Anyway, what brings yer to Killala? I’d heard yer hopped it to England when yer lost yer crop to the blight that summer. When we took over here, them cabins had just about caved in.”

“Hannah, take yer father for a walk whilst I speak for a moment with the farmer. We’ll have to leave the donkey cart here anyway. Bertha will never make it down the path to the hamlet. Would it be all right with you if we leave the donkey tied to your gate?”

The farmer agreed that it would be, then Maggie asked him her burning question. Had anyone else from the hamlet ever come back this way?

“Ah, that’s why you’ve come back then. Looking up yer relations, is it? Well, I can’t say that I remember anyone. All the time I’ve bin here, I’ve only seen the Dockerty son visit. Though there was a man hanging around about five years ago. Tall and sunburnt, not a black man with curly hair, but a man who’s spent his life in the sun.”

“Bernie, that will be me brother Bernie! He left fer a life at sea twenty years or more ago. Did yer speak to him? Did he say where he lived?”

“No, I shouted at him to get off me land or I’d set the dogs on him. I thought he was one of them gypsies that sometimes come around.”

“If he ever comes back again, will yer tell him that Maggie, his sister, was looking for him and that he can find me in Neston on the Wirral? That’s England, by the way. I had better dash off now and catch up with me husband and our daughter. I’ll see yer later when we come back fer the donkey. We should only be an hour or so.”

Maggie walked quickly along the footpath, feeling excited that her brother was still living and had come back to Killala, even if it had been after a very long time. She knelt at the shrine of the Blessed Mary on her way. It was still there after twenty years, still there for travellers to say their prayers. She prayed that Bernie was healthy and happy wherever he was and that one day they would meet again.

“And me sister, Molly, wherever she is. Look down on her, dear Mother Mary, bring her back to me one day.” Then with a prayer for the soul of her friend Mrs. Dockerty and one for Jack to be restored to health again, she continued down to Killala, back to the memories of yesteryear.

Hannah was helping her father down towards the “Giant’s Tub” as Maggie caught up with them. Subconsciously, Jack had walked towards Killala. Years of habit, Maggie supposed, as she looked down before her. Her eyes met nothing. No cabins, no plots of land, even the stone walling had gone. Just a grassy headland and the sea beyond.

“Oh Jack, it’s all gone,” Maggie moaned and sat down amongst the bluebells and celandines that were growing in profusion around her.

“Hannah, when we left there was a row of little cabins, made from the turf cut by my ancestors. Poor dwellings I grant yer, but what we considered to be our homes. Now there’s nothing. Someone’s come and cleared the land; there’s not even a stone bin left behind.”

“Oh, come Mother,” said Hannah practically. “You didn’t expect the place to have stayed the same. From what you told me everyone moved out anyway. The person who owned the land wouldn’t have wanted to be reminded of the bad times, would he?”

“Him?” Maggie snorted, getting up and brushing down her clothing. “He was away in his fancy house in England most of the time. It was us and the tenant farmers that supplied his lavish lifestyle. Anyway, let’s go down and have a look for any clues that might tell that we once lived there. We can sit on the cliff and look out to sea. We don’t want to waste such a glorious day.”

“I’ll be glad of a drink from that bottle you’ve got in your reticule, Mother and I’ll take off my jacket. Papa can sit there while we have a look around and I’ve got a notion to make a daisy chain.”

The warm floaty feeling was passing. Jack felt he had been left high and dry by the tide. He was hot, very hot; his head throbbing with pain and his eyes had filled with a mist, then they cleared again. A young girl was kneeling, picking flowers at his side.

“Maggie?” He put out his hand. “Maggie, you are goin’ ter come with me, aren’t yer?”

The girl rose quickly to her feet and cried out to someone that they were to come over quickly!

“Mother,” he heard her cry. “Mother, Papa has spoken again!”

Jack looked around to see a woman running towards him, then as she bent over him, he saw she had tears in her eyes.

“You’re not me mother. Where’s Alice? Maggie…” he turned and clutched at Hannah’s skirt. “Where’s me mother gone, Maggie?”

“I’m Maggie,” the woman said gently. “This is Hannah, yer daughter. We’ve come all the way from England to visit our homeland. I’m yer wife, Maggie. Alice is back in Neston where we’ve lived fer twenty years.”

“No, no,” cried Jack. “We’re off ter England tomorrow, we’re leavin’ on the mornin’ tide!”

“Yes, all right then, Jack, we’ll be going off ter England tomorrer. You just sit there with Maggie and enjoy the sunshine. Have a drink of tea from the bottle, it’ll cool yer a bit from the heat of the sun.”

She nodded to Hannah, when the girl looked in surprise at Maggie’s reaction, hoping that she realised she had a role to play.

Back in Ballina, Maggie sought out Frank and Bridget. Her heart was heavy as she explained to the couple what had happened earlier on. That Jack had recovered for a few minutes, but he had got Hannah mixed up in his thinking and didn’t know that Maggie was his wife.

“He’s gone back into his dream world again, I’ve put him to bed and left Hannah with him. He seems happy to have her near him. He keeps wanting to hold her hand.”

“Well, that’s something,” said Bridget gently. “An improvement surely on what he was like before.”

“I know and I must try to build on that by taking him back to England. I’ll get the best doctor, one that knows all about these sort of things. Did yer ask around about someone to take us to Sligo, Frank? I know I said we’d go on Saturday, but I feel useless sitting around.”

“I spoke to Billy McDermott. He said he was free to drive yer, but it’ll cost. Do yer want me to go and ask if he can take yer tomorrow? Now, you just sit and stop frettin’. Bridget, make her a cup of tea.”

“I could do with taking Jack to the tailors; he’s only got what he stands up in, thanks to those rotten fiends. Is there still one on the street next to the market? I can’t take him back home looking like a farm labourer; he’s always been most particular about the clothes he wears.”

Bridget said that the tailors had been there ever since she lived in Ballina, but Maggie would have to be sharpish as they usually closed at half past five. So, once again they set off down to the high street, Jack walking with Hannah, holding her hand.

Maggie couldn’t help but feel resentful as she walked along behind them. If her husband was going to remember anyone it should have been her. She felt guilty at even thinking it. Poor Jack, it wasn’t his fault that he’d been set upon, not his fault that his mind was confused. But still there was this little niggle. Why did he cling to Hannah and not her?

Jack stood in front of the cheval mirror that Mr. Tolan, the tailor had in his curtained off changing room. He was wearing a double breasted jacket in a light grey colour with a darker stripe running through the material, matching narrow trousers, a white winged collared shirt and a light blue cravat. What a handsome man, he thought, as he looked at his reflection. I could do with a haircut though, but all in all, not bad for nearly forty years! Forty years! Jack felt a cold shiver running through his body. He was only twenty, wasn’t he? About to marry Maggie and go to England with her?

“Maggie!” he shouted. “Maggie…” Mr. Tolan came running into the changing room and Maggie a step behind him.

But it wasn’t the Maggie he had pictured in the dark recesses of his mind, the girl with hair the colour of mahogany, creamy skin and oval green eyes. It was a woman nearly as old as his mother. A fashionably dressed woman though, brown hair pinned up into a neat curly bun, green eyes certainly but smudged underneath with the dark shadows of weariness. She stood at the side of him as he gazed into the mirror. Jack and Maggie, Maggie and Jack. The years came crashing back into his memory, but so did the pain of it all and it caught him unawares. Jack lurched against her, clutching at his head in agony with his two hands. Maggie and the tailor caught him as he fell.

He lay shivering under the bedclothes then sweat started pouring from every part of his body, then back to the shivering again. He was aware of someone leaning over, wiping down his forehead, his neck, his torso, with cooling water. Her hair was hanging down in wild tangles, anxiety showing in her dull green eyes.

“Oh God, it’s all my fault,” he heard her whisper brokenly. “Taking you out in all that sun, whatever was I thinking of?” She held his head as he sipped from a cup of water, then the room began to spin.