She was standing there, stock still, when the back door opened and Johnny Devlin came out, accompanied by a tall rangy man unknown to Dana. A customer? Neither man saw her, so intent were they on their conversation,
and Johnny led the stranger out through the white-painted wooden gate which led to the school. Yes, undoubtedly a customer. Johnny would be choosing his stock and showing their paces. The moment they were out of sight, Dana headed for the back door; it would be the ideal moment to catch her mother alone, she thought. Better to march in boldly, which she could not have done had Johnny been present. She reached the back door and realised that Johnny had not closed it behind him. It swung on the latch and she gave it a gentle push, then peered through the widening gap. Her mother was standing in the kitchen in front of the square of mirror, tying back her hair. She wore a scarlet roll-necked sweater, white jodhpurs and very shiny black boots, the costume she had always favoured when showing off a horse’s paces to an interested buyer. Naturally she did not see the door swing open behind her, but as Dana stepped into the room Feena gasped and spun round and her daughter realised that her mother had seen her reflection in the mirror, perhaps had not even recognised her, thinking her merely an intruder. But then their eyes met and Feena gave a shriek a steam train might have envied and Dana hurled herself into her mother’s outstretched arms.
‘Oh, my lovely girl, my little darling! Oh, how wicked you are to frighten me so.’ Feena almost sobbed the words. ‘Oh, alanna, we’ve missed you sore! Why didn’t you give us an address, so that we could write? Oh, Dana, one miserable little letter in t’ree long lonely years and all t’ree of us replied, begging you to come home, but the letters were returned
not known at this address
. Oh, you bad, bad, girl, but
how
I love you! You’ve not
changed a bit. No, perhaps you’re a little taller – but otherwise you’re still my little girl. D’you know what I t’ought when I saw your reflection? I t’ought my darlin’ Donovan had come back … me heart nearly stopped for joy, but when I saw it was you it was as though you’d never left. Now come and sit down and tell me what’s been happening to you, why you stayed away so long … why you’re here now, come to that!’
‘Your letters must’ve been returned by that wicked old woman who employed the kitchen staff and hated the Irish,’ Dana said miserably. ‘Why didn’t I think of that? Oh, if only I had! But all I could think was that you’d cast me off because I’d said such dreadful things. Oh, Mammy, will you ever forgive me?’
Feena tried to interrupt, to say there was nothing to forgive, but Dana overrode her. ‘Mammy – oh, Mammy, I’m so sorry, so very sorry. I’m a wicked girl, so I am, to give you such grief.’ Now she obeyed her mother’s pointing finger and sank into one of the old cane chairs which flanked the enormous range upon which they did most of their cooking. Feena sat down beside her, still clutching Dana’s hand as though she would never let it go, and Dana, looking at her mother’s face properly for the first time, saw that though Feena was still beautiful there were little worry lines around her eyes. I put them there, she told herself. My mean selfishness has marked my mother’s face. She felt deep guilt for what she had done.
‘Go on, alanna; start from the moment you left Castletara all those years ago …’ Feena began, then jumped to her feet. ‘Whatever am I thinking of? What a poor welcome, and me waiting for the kettle to boil so I
could brew tea when Johnny brings Mr Mason back to talk business.’
She moved over to where the kettle was just beginning to hiss, but Dana got to her feet and put a restraining hand on her mother’s arm. ‘Mammy, Johnny will be waiting in the school for you to go out and ride the horses. Had you forgotten?’
Feena struck her head with the back of her hand and then smiled rather self-consciously at her daughter. ‘And wouldn’t the good Lord himself forgive me for forgetfulness when the cause is me daughter’s return after three long years? But you’re right, of course, alanna. Johnny’s been good to me.’ She gave Dana a strange look, half ashamed and half defiant. ‘We’ve been good to one another, you might say. Oh, my darling, perhaps now you’re older you’ll understand. Your father meant all the world to me, but I’m a woman who needs a man. I couldn’t carry the burden of Castletara without help, and though Johnny was grand so he was, you might say he was neither fish, fowl, nor good red herring; neither the boss nor an employee, if you understand me. Besides, though no one could replace Don, I loved Johnny and knew he loved me.’ She leaned closer to Dana, looking straight into her daughter’s eyes whilst her own filled with tears. ‘Have you come back to say you understand and have forgiven me? Oh, Dee, darling Dee, say you have!’
Dana laughed. ‘Oh, Mammy, of course I understand, and there’s nothing for
me
to forgive. When war was declared it seemed the ideal opportunity to come home, though I can’t possibly stay. To be sure I’ve no job just now – I’ve been working in a cinema, running
the cafeteria at the top of the building, but since the government closed all places of entertainment I’m out of a job – but there’s plenty of work in Liverpool …’
‘Oh, Dee, there are a million jobs here,’ Feena said eagerly. ‘Riding isn’t something you forget and there’s only me to show off our horses most of the time. We could find you work, indeed we could, and nothing would give Johnny and myself more pleasure than to have you back.’
‘Oh, Mammy, I’d love to come back so I would,’ Dana said, suddenly aware that she sounded like a wistful five-year-old; she, who had meant to return as a success! ‘But it would be desertion, don’t you see? It would seem like running away, going to a place of safety and leaving my pals, my work colleagues, even my boss, to face it alone. And be honest: you’ve managed without me for three years. This war may last three or thirty, but whichever, I’m committed to fighting for the British. But of course I don’t intend to turn round and leave immediately. I’ll sleep in my old room tonight and we can have a really good catch up, with all my old friends …’
To Dana’s surprise a look of deep guilt crossed her mother’s face, and she broke into hurried speech. ‘Your old room … oh, yes, the tower room above where your daddy and meself used to sleep. But you’re not a child, alanna! You must have the big room on the first floor; it’s more fitting for the girl who will inherit all this one day. And now let’s go outside. You can chat to Johnny and Mr Mason while I show off two or three of the hunter-chasers.’
She turned towards the back door as she spoke but Dana clutched her arm, pulling her back. ‘Hang on a
moment, Mammy. I want my old room! No point in making up the bed in the other room when all my things are in the tower. Don’t tell me you’ve stripped my room and put someone else in it! They told me in the village that you take in parties of tourists now, but you’d not put a tourist into the tower room with all my books and paintings and clothes and other rubbish all over the place. So why can’t I have it? Has Con taken it over?’
‘Con? No, no, it’s not Con,’ Feena said vaguely. She heaved a sigh and looked up at the clock above the mantel. ‘Johnny won’t be expecting me down there for another ten minutes. Best get it over, I suppose. Come with me.’
Totally puzzled and more than a little annoyed, Dana followed her mother across the kitchen and up the steeply winding stone staircase which led straight into the tower room. At the top Feena signalled Dana to stay quiet, and pushed open the little wooden door. A plump young woman was bending over a cot and lifting from it a child whose age Dana was not qualified to judge, but it was dressed in a blue romper suit and gave an excited squawk when the two women entered the room. ‘Mammy!’ it squeaked. ‘Take Donny to see gee gees.’
For a moment Dana simply could not take it in; then realisation dawned and a furious rage consumed her. They had supplanted her with this mewling brat! She took one step into the room and met the child’s inquisitive gaze and suddenly, as suddenly as it had come, her rage and jealousy vanished like frost in June. She had often longed for a brother; now it seemed she had one. She smiled at the baby, for he was little more, and to her delight he smiled back. But the fat young
woman was talking; a nanny, clearly. Feena would need help with the child so long as she was working with Johnny and the horses.
‘Now, Mrs McBride, I know full well what you’re going to say to me, but he can’t get his little tongue round de word hosses so I lets him say gee gees,’ the girl said. ‘After all, Mrs M, he’s barely eighteen months and babbies the world over calls ’em gee gees.’
Dana looked from her mother to the child and read pride and apprehension in Feena’s dark eyes. She began to say that the boy was beautiful, that she envied Feena, when he held out his arms to her and she took the wriggling, chattering bundle from the girl and kissed his pink cheek. ‘Hello, little brother,’ she said softly. ‘Well, who’d have thought it?’ She turned to her mother, who was smiling now, though tentatively. ‘Oh, Mammy, what a wonderful surprise! This little fellow is lucky, so he is, as lucky as I was – and Con, of course – because he’ll be brought up at Castletara. He’s a link between Con and myself too; a half-brother to us both. What does Con think of him? I bet he adores him!’
‘Well, young men aren’t much interested in babies, except when they’re their own get,’ Feena said. ‘We named him for your father, Dana – he’s Donovan Liam McBride. Isn’t that what Don would have wanted? And now the two of you have met, you can be really useful, my darlin’ girl. Maureen – this is Maureen, Donny’s nanny – is scared of horses but a great hand wit’ washing nappies. So she can get on with that while you bring the young gentleman down to the school. To watch his mammy ride the gee gees,’ she added, pulling a face at her small son. He promptly scowled at her.
‘’Osses,’ he said. ‘Mammy say ’osses.’
‘Well I never did!’ Feena said gaily as they crossed the stable yard and headed towards the ménage. ‘’Osses is what it will be from now on and what a good thing the rain has ceased, though we’ve a covered school now which we use when conditions are too bad for the outdoor one.’
Presently mother and daughter parted and Dana settled down to watch Feena showing off the paces of three beautiful hunter-chasers, but all the time her mind was busy with Con’s whereabouts, for she had seen neither hide nor hair of him. When Johnny appeared with the buyer Feena had obviously told him that her daughter had returned as they tacked up the first beast, for he came and joined her by the rail, introduced her to Mr Mason and as soon as the other’s attention was diverted by the arrival of the first horse leaned over and gave her a quick, embarrassed kiss on the cheek. ‘Sorry I am for what I said all them years ago,’ he whispered. ‘Con lit into me something cruel for the way I behaved but I thought you knew me well enough to realise that I could lose me temper and say things I didn’t mean. Never mind, eh? You’re back and all is forgiven; that’s right, isn’t it?’ He poked a finger into his son’s plump little stomach. ‘Who’s come to see the gee gees, eh?’
‘’Osses!’ his son said reprovingly. ‘Donny see ’osses.’
Johnny laughed indulgently and Dana thought how nice it was that he clearly adored his little boy. She remembered he had been severe with Con, but he had had to be both mother and father to his firstborn. This child seemed more like a grandson and would no doubt reap
all the attention and affection which Johnny had been unable to show Con.
Each time her mother disappeared to hand her mount over to old Tom, Dana expected Con to come through the gate, but only her mother was riding today. Con must be busy seeing to the other animals, Dana told herself, but it was not until the customer had left, so satisfied that he intended to buy all three mounts, that Dana was able to ask about Con’s whereabouts. He had not come in for his lunch and, stranger still, no one had commented on his absence. Finally, lunch over and the deal concluded with a handshake – and no doubt a large cheque – Dana was able to satisfy her curiosity. She and Feena were alone in the kitchen, Feena washing up and Dana drying, both chatting about almost anything other than Con. Finally Dana realised she would have to put the question direct and proceeded to do so. ‘Where’s Con?’ she asked bluntly. ‘I thought he’d be showing at least one of the horses.’
Feena’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Don’t you know? I made sure Con would’ve got a message to you somehow, though come to think of it I don’t know how since the only address any of us have had was that Willows place which returned all our letters. Well, about eighteen months ago Con took a trip to Germany to look at a couple of fine stallions. As you know, we don’t go in for heavy breeds and these were massive chaps, which we thought would maybe improve our stock if put to the right mares. But Con came back full of what he had seen and all his talk was of the German war machine; he scarcely mentioned the stallions save to say he’d not bought, but he described everything he’d seen in Berlin.
If anyone but Con had told me such dreadful things I probably wouldn’t have believed them, but you know Con.’ She smiled at Dana. ‘Never a chap to exaggerate, he’d be more apt to play it down if anything. Well, it was his visit to Germany and his conviction that war was coming which sent him over the border to Northern Ireland, where he applied for the Royal Air Force and was accepted. He’s a fully trained fighter pilot, has been for six or nine months now, and I think he’s aiming to go as high as he can get in the service, though when peace comes I hope he’ll return to Castletara, his daddy and meself.’
Dana forced her numb lips into a smile. The news had shocked her to the very roots of her being, because she had never even imagined Castletara without Con. He was in every recollection of her life here, starting when they were both little more than toddlers. She remembered an occasion when they had had a dispute over a fine scarlet ball. Con, being the stronger, had given her a shove, so that she ended up in a pile of manure, squalling indignantly and demanding Con’s blood. Then her father had appeared, laughing, and plucking her from the manure had dusted her down. ‘No, I shan’t skelp the lad for teaching you you’re not the cock o’ the walk,’ he had said. ‘And neither shall his own daddy. Take defeat wit’ a good grace, me little love.’