The following summer I was fifteen. Uncle Jack’s farm was going strong, but not strong enough to pay passage for two of us.
‘I wonder if Colleen should have a turn,’ Mum said, when Da got Jack’s letter. She was tying a bow at her collar, trying to look smart on her way to work at Buttons and Bits.
‘Oh, I’d never take Ireland away from Nan,’ Colleen said quickly, before I even had a chance to turn pale with loss.
‘Just as well,’ Da said. ‘I want this one here where I can see her.’ He tapped her chin fondly but the way Colleen bit her lip I could tell she knew he was only half joking.
The exchange occurred so fast I only realize in the telling of it the debt I owed my sister. Travelling back to Ireland on my own. I must have had my share of doubts and forebodings, during this time in my life, as we do in all times of our lives, even childhood. But what I remember is a beautiful ignorance of everything the future held. Ignorance of the looming war, and how it would permeate all our days to come. Reality wasn’t the newspaper making my uncle’s face crease with worry. Reality was the way the ocean carried through the air I breathed. Reality was the clean white sheets we hung on the clothes line to dry in the sun, so that by the time they got to our beds a hint of brine stayed with them, filling our dreams with waves, rocks and seals. Reality was the black-haired, blue-eyed boy and his dog, travelling over green hills to see me.
‘Nan,’ Aunt Rosie called. It was morning. I had just come downstairs and was tying my apron on to help her with the boxty. ‘Finbarr Mahoney’s out front. He’s wanting you to ride with him.’
‘May I go?’
‘Sure you may.’ As much as my mother hated the idea of my one day moving to Ireland, her sister-in-law loved it. ‘Jack’s got errands in town so there’s no work with him today. You can ride Angela. Let Finbarr take Jack’s horse. Be home in time to help me with supper. And take Seamus with you.’
The three of us rode half a mile down the road, towards the shore. Alby trotted beside us. Finbarr drew his horse to a stop and pulled tuppence from his pocket. He sailed the coin over to Seamus. It was a good toss but Seamus missed it. He had to struggle down from his horse to collect it off the road.
‘There’s a good lad,’ Finbarr said. ‘Go off on your own, will you? We’ll meet you here in a few hours.’
Seamus tossed the coin back to Finbarr. He was only twelve but knew he’d been sent along as my chaperone. ‘I think I’ll be staying,’ my cousin said, and climbed back on his horse.
Finbarr laughed. He clucked and his horse took off, galloping towards Ballywilling Beach. I understood I was meant to follow, the two of us outrunning my cousin, but Seamus was a stalwart sort and he saw through this plan. He had also been practically born in the saddle and was a much better rider than Finbarr, who’d never had his own horse, or me, who’d only learned to ride two years ago. So, as Aunt Rosie envisioned, it was the three of us, riding in a group, sandpipers and plovers rising into the sky to get out of our way. Clouds overhead moved aside to let the sun through. I would have betrayed my mother in an instant, taking myself and future children away from London, across the sea, to live on these shores forever.
‘The tide’s out,’ Finbarr said, as my horse came to walk abreast of his. ‘We can pick across the tide pools from one beach to the next.’
Horse hooves clipped over tiny pebbles and dipped into the salty water. Alby splashed through the waves, porpoising through the deeper shallows. We climbed off the horses and Finbarr showed me some whistles he’d been working on as commands. Seamus stayed on his horse, a polite distance, eyes on us.
‘Here,’ Finbarr said, trying to teach me to whistle. He cupped his hand around my chin, pushing my lips into a pucker.
I tried to release the same sharp-noted whistle that had made Alby run forward, then backtrack in a wide circle. But the saddest little bit of breath came out.
‘Try with your fingers,’ Finbarr said. He put both forefingers into his mouth and let out a noise so loud it made me jump. Alby raced forward and came to a sitting stop at our feet. Finbarr took a small rubber ball from his pocket and cocked his arm to throw it.
‘Make a wish,’ he said.
‘I wish this day would never end.’
The ball and the dog flew.
‘Granted,’ Finbarr said, when Alby caught it.
Alby trotted back to us and spat the ball at our feet. I kneeled to embrace him. ‘Thank you, Alby. You’re beautiful. You’re perfect.’
‘Just like you.’ Finbarr kneeled beside me and pushed my hair behind my ears.
‘None of that,’ Seamus called. His voice hadn’t changed yet.
‘Thank you for joining me, Nan,’ Finbarr said, when we’d returned the horses to the barn. ‘There’s always work to be done but I hope we can go for another ride together before the summer’s end.’
‘I hope so too.’
August came and with it the war. Finbarr appeared at our farm. That’s how I’d come to think of it. Not just Jack’s, Rosie’s and Seamus’s farm. Mine too.
From the window in the kitchen I could see Finbarr walking over the hill, Alby at his heels. The boy and dog with matching strides, at once purposeful and carefree. There was no conscription; Finbarr joined the British Forces with his parents’ blessing because that’s what patriotism meant in those days, to a certain kind of person. Britons never, never, never shall be slaves and Come and do your bit. My Uncle Jack would join, too, once the efforts were underway. But we didn’t know that yet. For now war was a young man’s business.
‘Go on out,’ Aunt Rosie said, when she caught me watching through the window. This time she didn’t send Seamus with me. She knew what Finbarr had come to say. We make special dispensations for soldiers, even when it comes to girls.
‘I’m sorry to leave,’ Finbarr said. His voice was sombre but the lightness hadn’t left him. None of this was real. War was nothing but a ruined summer. ‘This wasn’t how I imagined things would go.’
Tears clouded my eyes. At first this embarrassed me but Finbarr reached out and took my hand.
‘Are you frightened?’ I asked.
‘Sure, I think I am. Though I don’t quite know what to be frightened of. I can’t hardly imagine what it’ll be like.’ The world around us stood green and untroubled. ‘Do you know what I can imagine? After it all. The war won’t take long. Six months tops and it’ll all be over. And you’ll come to Ireland to stay, and we’ll have a farm of our own, and I’ll train dogs, and you’ll write books.’
My face broke open into a smile that nearly cracked my body in two. He hadn’t said the word, married, I was too young for that, but everything else he’d said spelled it out, didn’t it? I could marry Finbarr. I could marry Ireland. My future was sealed, just one quick war to get out of the way.
‘Will you pray for me?’ Finbarr asked.
My father had left his religion when he left Ireland. I had never prayed in my life, not even when I went to church with Rosie and Jack, but I promised I would.