he finished up there. You’ll find him easy enough if ye need help. Just ask anyone for Danny Brogan. They’ll all know him.’
It was the first helpful thing he had said since the day the letter had arrived at the start of the summer.
Once the fiddlers struck up and the Guinness flowed she danced with the best of them, until, exhausted and hot, she stopped to fetch herself a glass of water and pay a visit to the privy. Some of her friends were having fun dancing with their peers, while others, exhausted from the journey back on top of a week’s work, sat on the chairs to gossip. A neighbour’s baby lay on her mammy’s knee, thumb in mouth, sucking away. Dana caught Mrs Brogan’s eye as she left the hall and made a sign between the dancing and jigging heads, that she was off to find herself a drink. Her mother nodded and smiled in response, tapping her feet to the music. Another neighbour sat next to her, nursing her own babby and waved across as well.
For a moment, a shiver of fear ran down Dana’s spine. If she hadn’t got into St Angelus, if she had been pressured into marrying green-gob Patrick, in a few years from now that could have been her. Dana could see the pleasure on her mammy’s face as she kissed the neighbour’s baby on the top of his head, and she struggled to understand how a life of nothing but selfless giving and hard work could ever make for happiness. Dana had to do something, make something of herself, before she settled down to that. All her mother needed to experience bliss was for those she loved to be having a grand time. Even her da, standing at the bar with his friends, looked relaxed. She heard the familiar roar of laughter and could see his shoulders shaking up and down as a friend shouted something in his ear.
Slipping out of the back door, she stood on the step for a moment and closed her eyes to let the cool air lower the temperature of her burning cheeks. It was hot in the hall and perspiration trickled from her neck down between her breasts. She undid the buttons on her cardigan and pulled her blouse out of her skirt, shaking the material to let the cold fresh air waft up and over her body. Feeling better she started along the cinder path to the outhouse, and caught herself in surprise as from nowhere Patrick stepped out into her path.
‘So, you’re off then,’ he said, putting a cigarette into his mouth and pulling hard.
She steeled herself and straightened her back, and for the first time in her life in her own home town she felt uncomfortable and scared.
‘I am, Patrick. I’m away in the morning. Isn’t that why you are here, to wish me well and say goodbye?’
She sounded stronger than she felt. She had noticed a change in Patrick over the past few months. He had not concealed his disappointment well.
Patrick flopped to the side and, smirking, leant against the wall of the turf shed. ‘Is that so? Do ye think ye will be marrying some grand and fancy doctor and selling the farm, then?’
Dana ignored him and, taking a breath, lifted her head higher than usual. Hoping she looked a great deal bolder than she felt, she walked purposefully on. Aware of every step she took, she felt her heart beat faster, her mouth become dry and the hairs on her arms bristle and rise. She wasn’t scared of Patrick. He may have been counting on the fact that their fathers had been planning their wedding day and the unification of the two farms for more years than she could remember, but as far as she was concerned that was their plan, not hers. He may have been affronted by her lack of response to his clumsy romantic advances, but nevertheless, they had known each other since birth and played together when they were children. They had walked to school together every day until they had parted ways, he heading to the boys’ side of the school and she to the girls’. He was her old playmate, whose shoelaces she had tied until he was ten because he could never get the hang of it
It was the first helpful thing he had said since the day the letter had arrived at the start of the summer.
Once the fiddlers struck up and the Guinness flowed she danced with the best of them, until, exhausted and hot, she stopped to fetch herself a glass of water and pay a visit to the privy. Some of her friends were having fun dancing with their peers, while others, exhausted from the journey back on top of a week’s work, sat on the chairs to gossip. A neighbour’s baby lay on her mammy’s knee, thumb in mouth, sucking away. Dana caught Mrs Brogan’s eye as she left the hall and made a sign between the dancing and jigging heads, that she was off to find herself a drink. Her mother nodded and smiled in response, tapping her feet to the music. Another neighbour sat next to her, nursing her own babby and waved across as well.
For a moment, a shiver of fear ran down Dana’s spine. If she hadn’t got into St Angelus, if she had been pressured into marrying green-gob Patrick, in a few years from now that could have been her. Dana could see the pleasure on her mammy’s face as she kissed the neighbour’s baby on the top of his head, and she struggled to understand how a life of nothing but selfless giving and hard work could ever make for happiness. Dana had to do something, make something of herself, before she settled down to that. All her mother needed to experience bliss was for those she loved to be having a grand time. Even her da, standing at the bar with his friends, looked relaxed. She heard the familiar roar of laughter and could see his shoulders shaking up and down as a friend shouted something in his ear.
Slipping out of the back door, she stood on the step for a moment and closed her eyes to let the cool air lower the temperature of her burning cheeks. It was hot in the hall and perspiration trickled from her neck down between her breasts. She undid the buttons on her cardigan and pulled her blouse out of her skirt, shaking the material to let the cold fresh air waft up and over her body. Feeling better she started along the cinder path to the outhouse, and caught herself in surprise as from nowhere Patrick stepped out into her path.
‘So, you’re off then,’ he said, putting a cigarette into his mouth and pulling hard.
She steeled herself and straightened her back, and for the first time in her life in her own home town she felt uncomfortable and scared.
‘I am, Patrick. I’m away in the morning. Isn’t that why you are here, to wish me well and say goodbye?’
She sounded stronger than she felt. She had noticed a change in Patrick over the past few months. He had not concealed his disappointment well.
Patrick flopped to the side and, smirking, leant against the wall of the turf shed. ‘Is that so? Do ye think ye will be marrying some grand and fancy doctor and selling the farm, then?’
Dana ignored him and, taking a breath, lifted her head higher than usual. Hoping she looked a great deal bolder than she felt, she walked purposefully on. Aware of every step she took, she felt her heart beat faster, her mouth become dry and the hairs on her arms bristle and rise. She wasn’t scared of Patrick. He may have been counting on the fact that their fathers had been planning their wedding day and the unification of the two farms for more years than she could remember, but as far as she was concerned that was their plan, not hers. He may have been affronted by her lack of response to his clumsy romantic advances, but nevertheless, they had known each other since birth and played together when they were children. They had walked to school together every day until they had parted ways, he heading to the boys’ side of the school and she to the girls’. He was her old playmate, whose shoelaces she had tied until he was ten because he could never get the hang of it
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