‘… got to go …’ and then something she couldn’t quite catch followed by ‘… never be happy.’
Mrs Foley sounded furious. ‘Be a man! You’ve always been …’ then it sounded as if she had turned away because her voice seemed more distant, but then full volume again, ‘…with that baby.’
Edward’s voice was even further away. It sounded as if he must be heading for the back door. ‘Mammy! There is only one thing that …’ His voice became muffled, so Patricia crept into the hall and edged along the wall towards the kitchen. Mrs Foley’s voice thundered through the closed door. ‘Edward Foley! You listen to me and you listen carefully. You lost your brother, you lost your wife and now you want to lose your daughter! You’re a fool and I will not let you do it!’ The back door slammed violently and Patricia scampered back to her dusting before she was discovered.
Her back against the door, she found herself breathing hard. She had never heard Edward speak like that before. She felt that something in him was about to crack. If she kept up the pressure on him, maybe it would snap, and he would finally defy his mother.
Upstairs Elizabeth began to cry. Patricia put down her duster and hurried off to see what the baby needed.
The afternoon was long and dark. The wind was at its worst and drove the rain in angry squalls against the window. It was the sort of day that would have sent Patricia into a downward spiral, thinking about Buncarragh and the lives that were marching on without her, but today she barely had a thought for the damp darkness that shrouded the house. Having fed and changed Elizabeth, she had watched her sleep for nearly an hour and then when the baby had woken with a small flurry of cries she had picked her up at once and held her to her breast as she paced the room. Patricia bent down and kissed the tiny ear which in turn made the little mouth wrinkle into a smile. She put the baby on the bed and gently tickled her belly. The smiles became a gurgle of laughter and that small happy face became Patricia’s world. She slipped off Elizabeth’s knitted lemon booties and examined her perfect little feet. So beautiful. She blew kisses into the sole of the right foot, then the left, and Elizabeth began to cackle, a laugh like no adult would ever make. It was an expression of pure happiness, not designed to please anyone, or demonstrate anything, but simply because the sensation on her feet filled her to bursting point with joy. It thrilled Patricia. For the first time, she had a glimpse of what lengths a mother might go to to keep her child happy.
The key turned in the lock, and Mrs Foley came into the room. The bubble of baby joy was immediately burst. Patricia stayed on the floor by the side of the bed. The old woman’s eyes looked red, as if she had been crying, and in the fading light from the window she looked tired and drawn.
‘Patricia,’ she said by way of a greeting. Patricia said nothing.
Mrs Foley sat on the high-backed chair. The two women looked at the baby on the bed and Elizabeth, as if sensing the attention, wiggled her legs in the air.
‘Sweet child,’ observed Mrs Foley.
‘Yes,’ agreed Patricia.
A silence descended on the room and the old woman put her hands on her thighs as if she was about to launch into a low keening ballad. Patricia could sense her eyes boring into her. She felt the familiar ripples of anxiety starting in her stomach. What had the old crone got in store for her now?
‘Has Teddy been talking to you?’
Patricia turned to look at her visitor. ‘Talking?’
‘Telling you things? His story?’
‘What do you mean?’
Mrs Foley gave an exasperated sigh. ‘You know things haven’t been plain sailing for him?’
‘I do,’ Patricia replied cautiously.
‘Well then, you know he hasn’t had it easy.’ She leaned forward, her dark eyes fixing Patricia with a hard stare. Mrs Foley spoke slowly and softly, picking her words with care. ‘You are not going to upset that boy any more.’
Patricia’s mouth was dry and she found herself leaning away from the old woman. What was she planning to do? The thought that Edward’s mother was about to try and kill her suddenly seemed very real. She got to her feet and moved to the foot of the bed.
‘Do you understand me, girl?’
‘Yes. Yes, I do,’ Patricia said quickly, not wanting to upset Mrs Foley any further.
‘So, if you don’t want to take care of this baby, I’m not going to make you.’ Mrs Foley stood up and before Patricia could react she had reached down and picked up baby Elizabeth. She carried the squirming bundle towards the door. ‘Happy now?’ she spat at Patricia.