Another Man’s Child

She stood up and Andy took her by the hand and she glided into his arms. As he tightened them around her she felt a slight tremor that began in her toes run all through her body. Andy felt it too and it aroused his protective instincts and he held her even tighter. ‘You’re shivering. Are you afraid?’

‘No,’ Celia answered, ‘I’ve never been less afraid than I am at this minute. I don’t know why I’m trembling so much, but it isn’t unpleasant.’

‘Oh that’s all right then,’ Andy said with a throaty chuckle and swept Celia across the floor with a flourish and that’s what Norah saw as she came back into the hall.

Had Norah heard the conversation between Celia and Andy McCadden she would have been further upset because, as she re-entered the hall, Celia was looking at Andy as if he had taken leave of his senses as she said, ‘I can’t just take off like that on a Sunday afternoon.’

‘Why not?’

‘It would be thought odd,’ she said. ‘It’s not something I ever do.’

‘Don’t see why not,’ Andy persisted. ‘It’s a normal thing to do, to go for a walk on a Sunday afternoon. What do you usually do?’

That was the rub, Celia thought, for she normally did nothing; that is, she worked harder than any other day in the week and so did Norah and their mother, for from the minute they returned from Mass, light-headed with hunger, they would be cooking up a big breakfast and barely had they eaten that and cleared away than they started on the dinner. The washing-up after that Sunday dinner seemed to take forever and while Celia and Norah tackled that Peggy would make some delicacies and pasties to be served after tea.

Then sometimes Norah would take up the embroidery she was so fond of. The young ones would be playing outside, Dermot would be going to meet with other young fellows in the town like himself, Tom off to see Sinead, and her parents would doze in front of the fire. Celia loved to read but all she was allowed to read on Sunday was the Holy Bible and she thought it the dullest day in the week and suddenly going for a walk seemed a very attractive prospect.

And yet she hesitated, for she knew however bored she was on Sunday, walking out on the hills with a man would not be viewed as a viable alternative. ‘I don’t know you,’ she said at last.

‘You do,’ Andy insisted. ‘I am Andy McCadden, second son of Francie McCadden and trying to make his way in the world.’

‘That’s not it,’ Celia said. ‘I mean, I know who you are but that is not the same as knowing a person.’

‘Well wouldn’t we get to know each other better if we walked and talked?’ Andy said. ‘Isn’t that what it’s all about?’

‘Mm, I suppose,’ Celia conceded and then shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t be let.’

‘Well that’s a real shame,’ Andy said as the waltz drew to a close and he continued to hold Celia as he went on, ‘I would say bring your sister but she seems to hate my guts – she’s looking daggers at us now.’

Andy was right. Celia glanced across at Norah and saw her eyes smouldering in temper. She felt her stomach give a lurch for she knew she was for the high jump and then, as Norah gave a sharp jerk of her head, she said, ‘I’ll have to go.’

‘All right,’ Andy said. ‘But if you are ever allowed to make your own mind up about things, I shall be walking around Lough Eske tomorrow afternoon if the weather is middling. Dinny and his wife tell me it’s a beautiful place to walk.’

As Celia trailed back towards her sister, she thought it probably was but she had never seen it herself, even though it was only a few miles away. They never walked just for the sake of walking, they walked only to get somewhere and she had never had an occasion to visit Lough Eske.

They had barely left the church hall before Norah started on Celia, saying she had made a holy show of herself dancing the last waltz with the hireling man and it was the first and last time she would take her to the dance if she was going to get up to that sort of carry-on.

Celia was really angry with her sister, but was unable to answer her because Tom had joined them and they both knew better than to involve him. He appeared not to notice any constraint between his sisters and was in high spirits himself. He asked Celia what she had thought of her first dance.

Celia ignored the glare Norah was casting her way and answered that she had thoroughly enjoyed herself. ‘Well I would have thought you would,’ Tom said. ‘I saw you up dancing a number of times.’

Celia glanced at her brother but he still had a smile on his face and the words weren’t spoken in any kind of a pointed way and so she relaxed and they fell to discussing the dance as they walked home together.

It was as they got in the house that Celia realised how weary she was. Her parents were already in bed and Tom, mindful of the milking in the morning, went straight to bed himself. Though Celia had intended to say something to Norah when they reached the semi-privacy of their bedroom, she fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.

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