Till the Sun Shines Through by Anne Bennett Page A

with her, when he spoke at all. She didn’t see why he should seem so annoyed with her, but preferred that attitude to his previous one, so didn’t bother worrying over it.
    She still viewed the coming winter – the rambling season and Christmas – with apprehension, but she needn’t have worried. Francis made no attempt to waylay her, or even say anything slightly suggestive, but rather seemed to avoid her if he could.
    She was able to say this in a letter to Mary, who was glad she hadn’t Bridie to worry about for that autumn she had discovered she was expecting again. The baby was due in April and she knew she’d have her hands full soon enough.
    In the New Year 1931, Father Dwyer began a fortnightly social in the church hall for young Catholic boys and girls over the age of sixteen. There was to be no strong drink, but it was a place to meet and chat and dance to the records played on the old gramophone belonging to the priest.
    It hardly headed the list of exciting places to be but, as Rosalyn said, it was better than nothing and might brighten up those bleak winter months. Nearly everyone in the place was known to them anyway – most of the girls they’d been at school with, while the boys were usually their brothers or cousins, or friends they’d known for years.
    Bridie could have been in great demand and yet as the winter came to an end, she’d given none of the boys the slightest encouragement to take an interest in her. ‘What’s the matter with you?’ Rosalyn asked, as they walked home together one night. ‘It isn’t as if you don’t know the boys. You even know most of their families.’
    â€˜I know.’
    â€˜Don’t you like any of them?’
    â€˜Not particularly. Not the way you mean.’
    â€˜Don’t you want to be kissed and held and … well, you know?’
    Oh how well Bridie knew and she also knew she’d had enough of that sort of carry-on with her uncle to last her a lifetime. There was anyway no point in it.
    â€˜You’ll never get married the way you go on,’ Rosalyn told her.
    â€˜I might not want to get married.’
    â€˜Oh God, Bridie, you can’t want to be an old maid?’
    â€˜Look, Rosalyn,’ Bridie said. ‘Say I really liked one of those farmers’ sons at the social tonight and we began walking out together. If we should decide in time to get married, where would I live? If I moved out of the farmhouse what would happen to Mammy and Daddy?’
    â€˜They’d get someone in to help them. Lots have to do that,’ Rosalyn said. ‘You can’t stay with your parents all the days of your life, Bridie. It’s not healthy.’
    But Bridie knew her father would hate to get a stranger in to help him on the farm. He’d rather break his neck trying to do it all himself than that.
    â€˜Daddy said you’re wasting yourself,’ Rosalyn said.
    â€˜Oh, did he?’ Bridie retorted. ‘What does he know?’
    â€˜He was only concerned about you,’ Rosalyn said. ‘You know how fond he is of you.’
    Fond, Bridie thought grimly, is that what they call it these days? ‘Your father should mind his own business,’ she cried angrily. ‘He should look to his own life and keep his nose out of my affairs.’
    â€˜Look here, Bridie.’
    â€˜Leave it be, Rosalyn,’ Bridie said. ‘I’m away home.’
    Rosalyn looked after her cousin’s retreating figure and couldn’t for the life of her think what she’d done or said to upset her so much.
    Bridie was ashamed of her outburst and glad that Rosalyn was not one to bear a grudge, for she couldn’t wait to show her the latest letter from Mary telling her of the birth of another boy whom they’d called Mickey after Eddie’s father. There was also one from Ellen saying her and Sam would be over for a wee holiday later than usual, maybe