Life and Mary Ann Page 4

  ‘Oh, you all alone?’ Mike attempted to be casual.

  Tony moved from the fireplace and stood on the edge of the mat, rubbing his left shoulder with his right hand, a characteristic action of his when worked up about anything.

  ‘Where’s Mary Ann?’

  ‘I think she’s upstairs. I’ve heard someone moving about, and Lizzie’s still in the barn. Look, Mike, I didn’t intend to say anything to her. I was going to ignore the whole affair, but I’ve just got to tell her that I’m not in on this business of Corny’s deportation.’

  ‘Deportation is right!’ Mike nodded at him. ‘That’s the most suitable word I’ve heard for it yet. But don’t worry, I don’t think she would believe for a moment you had a hand in it.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know so much, Mike. She said the other day, over some little thing that I did, she said I was as wily as my grandfather. She might be thinking that, although I’m opposing the old man on the surface, I’m glad that Corny is going.’

  ‘And are you?’ The question was flat sounding.

  ‘Aw, Mike, no. No.’

  ‘But you like her?’

  ‘Yes, of course I do. You know that, Mike.’

  ‘Do you more than like her? I’ve got the right to ask this, Tony. Do you more than like her? Do you love her?’

  Tony turned his head quickly and looked towards the fire, then bringing his eyes back to Mike he said slowly, ‘Yes. Yes, Mike, in a way, I suppose I do. I always have done. But it’s an odd kind of love. I don’t understand it quite myself. I’m always fighting against her inside myself. I suppose this is the result of the Old Man’s plans. If he hadn’t pushed it but let it take a natural course, things might have been different; at least on my side. But no matter what I had felt it wouldn’t have made very much difference as long as Corny was in the picture. And you know, Mike—’

  ‘And when he’s out of the picture?’ Mike cut in. ‘What then? On your side, I mean.’

  ‘I don’t know, Mike. I’ve got to wait and see. The odd thing is I’ve never met anyone I like better. I was brought up, so to speak, on her personality.’ He smiled now, before adding, ‘And as you know, it’ll take some beating.’

  Mike turned from Tony and, pulling a chair from under the table, straddled it. And with his one hand he thumped the top with his closed fist as he said, ‘I’m mad over this business, Tony, flaming mad. I know the old boy has worked on that lad for years.’ He looked up at Tony. ‘You know this is the kind of situation that always makes me want to get drunk.’ He gave a little jerk to his head. ‘I’d better not let Lizzie hear me say that. But at this moment I’d like to get blind drunk. You see, all my early married life, and occasionally even now, I’ve had to fight against Lizzie’s mother. You know the old girl. Well, I see in the old man a male replica of Madam McMullen. He’s aiming to direct and ruin Mary Ann’s life as surely as Lizzie’s mother tried to ruin ours. And I tell you, Tony, it boils me up inside…Ssh!’ Mike got to his feet quickly. ‘Here she’s coming. Look, Tony. I wouldn’t say anything now. Let it pass off, for the night at any rate. Talk to her later. Let her dance the night and have a bit of carry-on, and forget it if she can. Although she’ll be hard put to it with Corny up there blowing his heart out through that cornet, and nothing will convince me but he’ll go on doing that where she’s concerned, America or no…Ssh!’

  Although it was Mike who had been doing the talking he admonished Tony to silence with his last Ssh! and when the door opened and Mary Ann came into the kitchen he flung his arm up over his eyes and cried, ‘Oh, Lord, what a dazzle!’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Da.’ Although Mary Ann’s voice was chiding, she smiled at Mike but did not look towards Tony, until he said, ‘A new dress, is it?’

  ‘Yes.’ She nodded her head once.

  ‘It’s nice. Red suits you.’

  ‘It’s not red, it’s cyclamen.’

  ‘Oh…oh. Cyclamen, is it? Well, anyway, it’s very charming. Although, mind, I think it makes you look older.’

  The last was a covered compliment and would have at any other time pleased Mary Ann, for next to wishing to be taller she longed to appear older. Although she would soon be seventeen, she sometimes, because of her height, looked no more than fifteen years old.

  ‘The band’s come,’ said Mike, his back half towards her now. ‘Listen, they’ve started. Come on, wrap yourself well up. Wait, I’ll get my big coat and put around you; your top looks half-naked, you’ll catch your death.’

  When Mike went out into the hall, Tony, moving towards Mary Ann, said, ‘May I have the first dance, Miss Shaughnessy?’ His smile was kind, and she returned it. But she did not enter into his playful mood.

  Mike, coming into the room again, put his coat about her and they all laughed at the picture she presented; then, one on each side of her, they went out of the house down the road to the farm gate, and across the yard to the barn. And when they were inside the doorway, Mike took his coat from her, and she turned to Tony, and they danced …

  Lizzie was standing in the far corner of the barn behind the refreshment table, which also served as the bar. And it was the bar at this moment that was worrying Lizzie. Mr Coot was attending to the bar and also to himself. In estimation he’d already had too much, and the night young yet. The bride’s father had not been satisfied with the amount of wine and beer Mr Lord had provided, but had had to bring his own quota. Instead of spending so much on drink, Lizzie thought to herself, they could have bought something different for the young couple instead of that clarty cheap teaset. Or provided some of the eatables! Thriftless lot. She had better see Mike and tell him to keep an eye on Mr Coot and his personal friends.

  She was looking here and there in between the dancers for Mike when she saw Mary Ann and Tony dancing together. At the sight of her daughter’s dress, all thought of Mr Coot left her mind for the moment. Oh, that dress! Why on earth had she picked a red dress? It wasn’t her colour and the style was all wrong. It was the first dress she had let her buy on her own, and she had to pick red! It looked cheap, and didn’t suit her; it made her look older. She could be eighteen…nineteen. She kept her eye on her daughter as she waltzed nearer. And as the couple passed the table, Lizzie smiled at them. Anyway, Mary Ann was dancing nicely. It was the first time she had seen her dance except in the kitchen at the Christmas do’s. Her steps and Tony’s seemed to match somehow, she didn’t look out of place with Tony, not like she did with…Lizzie’s eyes flicked towards the temporary platform where the band was arrayed. Corny, his legs apart, his elbows level with his shoulders, his head back, was blowing his heart into his cornet. She could see the full meaning of Mike’s phrase now. He was cornet mad, that boy. And, yes, yes, from the bottom of her heart she was glad he was going to America. And she prayed God that he would go soon and Mary Ann would have a chance to settle down with…She turned her eyes to Tony and Mary Ann again. Then she brought her gaze to the right of her, where Mr Lord was sitting, once again being entertained by Mrs Schofield. Let him scheme, let him plan, she was with him every inch of the way. Although she would not be able to open her mouth to him about the matter, she knew that the day her daughter married his grandson would be one of the happiest in both their lives.

  She saw Mike now and she came round from behind the table and threaded her way towards him, and when she reached him she turned and stood by his side, letting her gaze follow his as he looked at the merrymaking. But under her breath she said, ‘You’d better keep your eye on that Mr Coot. He’s going it some with the bottle.’

  When Mike did not answer or turn his eyes towards her she was forced to look at him, and she said, still in a whisper, but with an edge to it, ‘I’m saying something, did you hear me?’

  ‘Yes, I heard you, Liz, but it happens to be a weddin’.’

  ‘But you don’t want it broken up, do you, with a drunken brawl?’

  ‘Who says there’s going to be a drunken brawl?’

  ‘The night’s young, and I’m telli
ng you he’s pretty well loaded now.’

  ‘And he mightn’t be the only one afore the night’s out.’

  Something jumped within Lizzie’s chest. It was a frightening feeling. But one that was familiar—at least had been familiar up to these last few years. And now the feeling attacked the muscles of her stomach, bringing with it a slight nausea and she was back in the past, when each weekend had been a dread, and she didn’t know from one day to another how they were going to get by. She was staring through glazed sight at the dancers while she cried out wildly inside herself, ‘It’s not fair, it’s not fair, he’s taking it out on me.’ Then her vision clearing, she turned her eyes without moving her head towards the seat of state, in which Mr Lord still sat; and she ended her thinking with, ‘Well, far better he take it out on me than on the old man. But if he gets one too many himself it will be on both of us.’ On this she was swamped with apprehensive fear, and the fear made her bold. With her eyes still directed towards the swirling couples, and her voice almost drowned by the noise and laughter, she said, ‘If you do anything to spoil this night, Mike, I’ll walk out…I’m telling you, I’ll walk out.’

  ‘Will you, Liz?’ Mike too had his eyes fixed on the dancers, and his tone was deceptively even as he went on, ‘I should have thought you knew better than that, Liz. Threats have always been as effective on me as water on a duck’s back.’

  The band stopped. The dancers clapped and called for more. The band started again and Mike, without any further words, walked from Lizzie’s side and along to where Mr Lord was seated. As Lizzie watched him go her hand went instinctively to her lips. Then slowly it dropped away and her shoulders went back, and her chin moved up just a little as she watched her husband bending over Mrs Schofield. She watched him put his arm around Mrs Schofield’s slender waist while she rested both her hands on his shoulders. She watched for a moment longer as he laughed down into Mrs Schofield’s pretty face, and she watched Mrs Schofield laugh up at him; and then she turned abruptly away.

  She had, up to this minute, liked Mrs Schofield, even though she thought her a bit dizzy. He had always maintained there was another side to her…Oh, she wished it was tomorrow and the wedding well behind them. She wished it was next week or the week after, or whenever it was Corny Boyle was leaving. Once he was gone Mary Ann could settle down. She would do everything in her power to see that she did settle down. But, oh, she did wish this night was over, and she wished that Mrs Schofield hadn’t come.

  When the band stopped for a break, Mary Ann was standing waiting to the side of the platform for Corny. She had no pride left. During the hour and a half the band had been playing, Corny hadn’t looked at her; at least, when she was looking at him. It was as if she didn’t exist for him; or, once having existed, he had decided to forget her. She knew that her father would try to get at him during the interval. And if not, her mother would insist that he had something to eat. Or Mr Lord would raise an authoritative finger to beckon him to his side. And then the interval would be over, and when the dance finished he would pack up and go back with the other lads, and she didn’t know whether he was coming tomorrow or not. She just had to talk to him.

  As he stepped down off the wobbling planks, she looked up into his big face, which was redeemed from ugliness only by the mould of the mouth. This feature, taken separately, could be described as beautiful, yet it almost went unnoticed in the ruggedness of the whole. ‘Hello,’ she said. It was as if they had just encountered each other.

  ‘Hello.’ After looking down at her for a moment he thrust his head upwards, and gazing towards the refreshment table he exclaimed, ‘Lord, but I’m starvin’.’

  ‘I’ll get you some sandwiches…stay here, and I’ll get them. Look, there’s a seat.’ Her voice was rushed, eager, and he looked down on her again. Then jerking his head, he said abruptly, ‘I can get it.’

  ‘Corny, I’ve got to talk to you.’

  ‘Aw, Mary Ann…’

  ‘You’ll go with the others as soon as the dance is finished, won’t you.’

  ‘Aye, it’s the only way of gettin’ back. I can’t do anything else.’

  ‘Well, I’ve got to talk to you now.’

  ‘Leave it till the morrer.’

  ‘Are you coming tomorrow?’ Her eyes were wide and fixed hard on him now.

  He looked anywhere but at her as he said, ‘No. No, I wasn’t. I promised to take our Stan’s motorbike to bits.’

  As she stood gazing up at him she made a great effort to use the pride that was in her and turn from this gangling individual and march away, her head in the air and her step firm. But, as with her da, she could bring no pride to her aid when dealing with Corny, at least not as yet. In the past she had sold her soul to the devil over and over again in her own small way to defend her father. And she would do the same for this boy. She did not question why she should love Corny, she only knew that she did. And it was a love that could not be killed by ridicule or parting. Or even a statement from his own lips to the fact that he did not love her. That was a strange thing. And she had dwelt upon it quite a bit these past few hours. Corny had never said in words that he loved her; but in every possible way his actions had spoken for him. He had never even paid her a compliment that she could remember, and he had certainly never said, ‘Oh, Mary Ann, I love you.’ And his desertion now was not to be verbal either. He spoke, as usual, in actions, and his actions, like the proverb, spoke louder than his words.

  ‘Comin’ for some grub?’ Bert was calling to him from the far side of the stage. And Corny, looking over his shoulder, answered in an overloud voice, ‘Be with you in a tick,’ and then, walking towards the seat that Mary Ann had proffered, he said quietly now, ‘Sit down, I’ll get you something.’

  She remained standing looking at him. ‘I don’t want anything…When are you going away?’

  ‘Aw, Mary Ann, man.’ He tossed his big head from side to side. ‘Let’s forget it.’

  ‘When are you going away?’

  ‘All right, all right, if that’s how you want it.’ Again his head was tossing. But it had ceased its moving before he said, ‘The fourteenth.’ His voice had dropped and his head with it. His eyes were not looking at her, but were shaded by the wide lids, and they flickered once when her voice, cracking with surprise, cried, ‘The fourteenth! That’s just over a week…Oh, Corny!’

  ‘Look, Mary Ann, don’t go on. I’ll come over the morrer…Yes, I will, and talk about it…Look, I’ll go and get something to eat. Sit there, I’ll be back.’

  He did not wait for more protestations but hurried from her and threaded his way towards the far corner and the refreshment table.

  Mary Ann sat down. She felt lost, sick, and she wanted above all things to lay her head on her arms and cry.

  Up to a moment ago this corner of the barn had been comparatively empty, but now people were making their way back to the forms that lined the walls, carrying plates balanced on the tops of cups of coffee or glasses of beer. And as she was forced to answer, and even smile when she was spoken to, she was thinking, ‘There’s no place for him to sit now. And it’s too cold outside, and he won’t come over to the house.’ She looked around now, not for Corny, but for Mike. Just to stand near her da would be a comfort. Moreover, she realised that she should be sitting close to her father from now on; because when she last saw him there had been a glint in his eye that told her he was well past his restricted number of whiskies.

  Corny had pushed his way to her with a dinner-sized plate full of food, but his attention was not on her, for he kept looking towards the stage. And then he brought out under his breath, ‘Lordy, I hope they don’t play about with the instruments. Bert will go crackers if anything’s busted up.’

  Mary Ann, following his perturbed gaze, saw Mrs Schofield, her head back, her mouth wide with laughter, holding a trombone, and Tony, who was sitting at the piano—which incidentally had been brought down from the house but had not so far been played—calling to her: ‘One�
��Two…Three.’

  The sound that issued from the stage now caught the whole attention of the barn. And everybody was laughing as they looked towards Mrs Schofield. It was evident that she had some knowledge of the trombone but was laughing so much herself that she could not keep in time with Tony, but the guests, catching the theme of ‘The Old Bull and Bush’, began to sing.

  Mary Ann didn’t join in, nor did Corny, but he whispered to her in reluctant admiration, ‘She could play that, you know. With a little practice she could be good.’

  Mary Ann looked at Mrs Schofield, who was consumed with laughter and only intermittently keeping in time, and thought, ‘This is what Janice means when she says her mother is dizzy.’ And she felt a little ashamed of Mrs Schofield. Ashamed of her, and ashamed for her. She was too old to act the goat like that. Mary Ann at this moment gave thanks that her mother would never do anything like that.

  But it would appear that Mary Ann was alone with her feeling concerning Mrs Schofield, for the rest of the company were enjoying her with high delight. And when the song was finished there was a call for another, and another.

  Then Mike was on the stage, standing by Tony, and he let his deep rich voice soar through the barn as he led the singing. That was all right; Mary Ann liked to hear her da sing. And as long as he was singing he wouldn’t be drinking. Yes, it was all right until Mrs Schofield put down the trombone and went and joined him. And then Mary Ann watched her da put his arm around Mrs Schofield’s shoulder and lead her to the front of the stage, and with their heads together they sang duets to the great amusement of the company, with the exception of herself and her mother. For Mary Ann caught sight of her mother’s face, and she knew that she was upset. She also knew that her da was letting rip like this on purpose because he was vexed, not only with Mr Lord but with her ma. And it was all on account of her and Corny. As Lizzie had said a short while ago, now Mary Ann also said to herself, ‘Oh, I wish this night was well over.’