tomorrow?’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’
‘Please. We can take a walk out if the weather is kind to us.’
Maria looked into Greg’s clear, brown eyes and knew that she wanted to see him again and yet still she said, ‘No, not in the daytime. Bella and Dora are kind enough to mind Mammy in the evening so that we can have time together. I will not take advantage of that kindness, and before we do anything else tomorrow, I must see my father.’
Greg didn’t argue further, both because he knew Maria had a point and because she had a way of talking, a certain tone that would brook no argument. But the next evening he turned up in his father’s rattly old tip-up truck he’d had the loan of and so they travelled toDerry in style and Maria took Greg’s hand as they went into the hospital.
Sam liked Greg. He knew too how Sarah had felt about him, the hopes she’d had for him and Maria. Greg sat beside him and told Sam about the lighter side of army life and the high jinks they got up to, and Sam laughed till the tears ran down his weathered cheeks. Then he discussed the true war situation with Greg and found his regard for the man growing.
Sam knew he’d be no help to Maria the way he was, and he saw plainly the way Greg thought about the girl. It was portrayed in his eyes. Of course, Maria was young yet, but so much had happened to her in her brief life that her youth mattered less than getting support for her. Greg Hopkins came from a decent respectable family, whom, he knew, would rally round Maria, particularly if she was the one he wanted. Pity the lad had enlisted really.
And as they left the hospital that night, Greg too wished he’d never left Moville and then he’d be around to help Maria, but nothing could be done about that now. They just had to make the most of the time they had.
‘Care for a drink before we go back?’ he asked.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Maria said. ‘I’ve never been in a public house in my life.’
‘That’s because you’ve been born and bred in Moville,’ Greg said. ‘In other parts of the country, the cities in particular, it is a respectable enough place for women to go to.’ Maria still looked doubtful and Greg tucked her arm in his. ‘Trust your Uncle Greg in this,’ he said, and Maria laughed as he ushered her through the door.
Mindful of Maria’s age, Greg brought her just an orange and for himself a Guinness. As they sat at a small table Maria glanced around self-consciously and saw that there were other girls and women in the pub. She began to relax.
Greg hadn’t wanted to press Maria yet, but when she had excused herself for a few minutes at the hospital, Sam had asked him bluntly how he felt about his daughter. When he admitted he loved her to distraction, Sam had advised him to tell her.
‘I know that Maria is barely out of childhood,’ he said. ‘Had things been different, then I would not be advocating this at all, but in the situation she finds herself, her needs have changed. It would ease my mind if you and your family were there for her if she needed you.’
Greg had quite understood Sam’s reasoning, but he guessed Maria didn’t know how he felt about her. How would she know? He saw that she was indeed surprised when he suddenly said, ‘This is a conversation I didn’t intend to have yet, Maria—not for a few years, when you were older.’
Maria was intrigued. ‘What are you talking about, Greg?’
‘Can’t you guess?’ Greg reached across the table and caught up her hand. ‘I love you, Maria, and have done for years. I didn’t speak of it because you were set for a glittering future in Dublin.’
‘Would you have just let me go then?’
‘No,’ Greg said. ‘You’d already given me the name and address of the hostel where you would be staying in one of your letters. I intended going to see you atime or two, when I had leave, so that we had a chance to get to know each other. That can never be now, so I will ask you today.
‘Oh, I don’t know.’
‘Please. We can take a walk out if the weather is kind to us.’
Maria looked into Greg’s clear, brown eyes and knew that she wanted to see him again and yet still she said, ‘No, not in the daytime. Bella and Dora are kind enough to mind Mammy in the evening so that we can have time together. I will not take advantage of that kindness, and before we do anything else tomorrow, I must see my father.’
Greg didn’t argue further, both because he knew Maria had a point and because she had a way of talking, a certain tone that would brook no argument. But the next evening he turned up in his father’s rattly old tip-up truck he’d had the loan of and so they travelled toDerry in style and Maria took Greg’s hand as they went into the hospital.
Sam liked Greg. He knew too how Sarah had felt about him, the hopes she’d had for him and Maria. Greg sat beside him and told Sam about the lighter side of army life and the high jinks they got up to, and Sam laughed till the tears ran down his weathered cheeks. Then he discussed the true war situation with Greg and found his regard for the man growing.
Sam knew he’d be no help to Maria the way he was, and he saw plainly the way Greg thought about the girl. It was portrayed in his eyes. Of course, Maria was young yet, but so much had happened to her in her brief life that her youth mattered less than getting support for her. Greg Hopkins came from a decent respectable family, whom, he knew, would rally round Maria, particularly if she was the one he wanted. Pity the lad had enlisted really.
And as they left the hospital that night, Greg too wished he’d never left Moville and then he’d be around to help Maria, but nothing could be done about that now. They just had to make the most of the time they had.
‘Care for a drink before we go back?’ he asked.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Maria said. ‘I’ve never been in a public house in my life.’
‘That’s because you’ve been born and bred in Moville,’ Greg said. ‘In other parts of the country, the cities in particular, it is a respectable enough place for women to go to.’ Maria still looked doubtful and Greg tucked her arm in his. ‘Trust your Uncle Greg in this,’ he said, and Maria laughed as he ushered her through the door.
Mindful of Maria’s age, Greg brought her just an orange and for himself a Guinness. As they sat at a small table Maria glanced around self-consciously and saw that there were other girls and women in the pub. She began to relax.
Greg hadn’t wanted to press Maria yet, but when she had excused herself for a few minutes at the hospital, Sam had asked him bluntly how he felt about his daughter. When he admitted he loved her to distraction, Sam had advised him to tell her.
‘I know that Maria is barely out of childhood,’ he said. ‘Had things been different, then I would not be advocating this at all, but in the situation she finds herself, her needs have changed. It would ease my mind if you and your family were there for her if she needed you.’
Greg had quite understood Sam’s reasoning, but he guessed Maria didn’t know how he felt about her. How would she know? He saw that she was indeed surprised when he suddenly said, ‘This is a conversation I didn’t intend to have yet, Maria—not for a few years, when you were older.’
Maria was intrigued. ‘What are you talking about, Greg?’
‘Can’t you guess?’ Greg reached across the table and caught up her hand. ‘I love you, Maria, and have done for years. I didn’t speak of it because you were set for a glittering future in Dublin.’
‘Would you have just let me go then?’
‘No,’ Greg said. ‘You’d already given me the name and address of the hostel where you would be staying in one of your letters. I intended going to see you atime or two, when I had leave, so that we had a chance to get to know each other. That can never be now, so I will ask you today.
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