LITMIR.BIZ

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but I had the feeling if I left these shores I’d never come back.’

      ‘Think nothing of it,’ Doreen said. ‘You can stay as long as you like.’

      ‘Aye,’ said Tressa. ‘It will be like old times.’

      ‘Not quite,’ Lizzie said with a smile. ‘Those days will not come back, I’m afraid. Maybe my carefree days are over too.’ And then, in a quieter voice, she said, ‘Steve asked me to marry him yesterday.’

      Tressa’s mouth dropped open in surprise. Because she hadn’t been able to visit the hospital much she didn’t know the role Steve had played. The last she’d heard, Lizzie had told her firmly that they were just friends. ‘What did you say?’ she asked.

      ‘I said I’d think about it.’

      Doreen, who’d had many a chat with Catherine about Steve, gave a sniff and said, ‘What’s there to think about?’

      ‘I’m not sure I love him,’ Lizzie said simply.

      ‘Love! Bumpkin!’ Doreen said disparagingly. ‘Love, let me tell you, flies out of the windows when the bills come in at the door. And it’s a good thing that man didn’t waste time to think about it when you were lying half-dead in a hospital bed.’

      ‘I know that.’

      ‘He has a good job, he’ll be a good provider,’ Doreen said. ‘Is he generous?’

      ‘Aye, very generous and considerate. He has a temper though.’

      ‘Not with you, surely?’

      For a second, the scene when she told Steve it was over flashed through Lizzie’s mind, but she decided to say nothing, for Steve had apologised profusely and since then he had been kindness itself. ‘No,’ she said, and added, ‘He fights mainly with his brother.’

      Doreen gave a snort. ‘What brothers do not?’ she asked. ‘But they’ll probably get on better when they have wives and children of their own. It’s a very gentling experience becoming a father. I’ve seen it many a time. Tell me, Lizzie, do you like Steve?’

      ‘Oh aye.’

      ‘Well, let me tell you that liking is often more sustaining and fulfilling than love. When love dims, liking will survive.’

      ‘So you think I should say yes, Doreen?’

      ‘I do, my dear.’

      ‘What about you, Tressa?’

      ‘It’s entirely up to you, Lizzie,’ Tressa said, ‘but do you not want a home and family of your own?’

      Unbidden, Lizzie remembered little Phillip, the perfectness of him, and she knew she yearned for a baby and the decision was made.

      The wedding was in Ballintra on 18^th June 1933, just three weeks short of Lizzie’s twenty-first birthday, and her family pulled out all the stops to accommodate Steve’s family, who came over for it.

      Lizzie herself was consumed by excitement as the wedding drew near. She’d bought the dress in Birmingham, though her parents had paid for it, and it was the talk of the place for days. It was pure white, the shimmering satin of the skirt held out with six lace petticoats, caught up at intervals with white rosebuds. The bodice fitted her slender figure to perfection and the entire dress was covered with beads that caught the light in the room as Lizzie spun round to admire herself in the mirror.

      It brought a lump to Catherine’s throat to see this, her youngest daughter, and one who had been dangerously ill not so long ago, looking so radiant, so happy. She was thrilled that the man she had chosen was honest and respectable and that he had shown Catherine that he loved Lizzie to distraction. She was also glad that Lizzie had respected herself, that she had earned the right to wear the white dress.

      However, it wasn’t in Catherine’s nature to praise her children, and so now she said chidingly, ‘How can I get this headdress on with you spinning around like a dervish? Be still now.’

      Lizzie obediently stayed still, though her insides continued to perform somersaults as her mother fastened the veil in place, pinning it securely to the plait she had in a coronet around her head. The effect of it all caused Eileen, coming into the room at that moment, to catch her breath. ‘God, Lizzie,’ she said. ‘You look just fantastic. Doesn’t she, Mammy?’

      Catherine blinked away the tears from her own eyes and said almost brusquely, ‘Aye. You chose well, Lizzie. The dress an’ all suits you fine.’

      Neither Lizzie nor Eileen were put off by Catherine’s manner. It was her way, and both had spotted her glittering eyes and they smiled at one another across the room.

      ‘Thank you, Mammy,’ Lizzie said, suddenly overcome with it all. ‘Thank you for making it so special for me, the dress, the flowers, the cake, and for arranging it all. No one could ask for more, or better parents.’

      And then, mindful not to crush the dress, Catherine took Lizzie in her arms and kissed her lightly. ‘And why would we not want it special for you?’ she said. ‘Aren’t you the last daughter to see to, and one I love dearly.’

      Seldom had Catherine used such gentle tones and never could Lizzie ever remember her mother saying she loved her and it brought a lump to her throat.

      ‘Don’t be blubbing now,’ Catherine warned, seeing her daughter’s eyes brimming, ‘or your face will puff up and your man will go for me for upsetting you. Go on now with Eileen. Your daddy will be waiting on you.’

      Later, when Lizzie stood at the church door, one arm through her father’s and the other holding the beautiful array of flowers, her three little nieces who her sister Susan had got ready in place behind her, the strains of the wedding march filling that familiar church, she felt she could burst with happiness.

      She kept her eyes averted from the malicious glare of Flo as they began the slow walk down the aisle and instead fixed them on her man waiting for her before the altar, with Mike his best man beside him. As she drew closer, Steve risked a peep at her and he felt for a moment as if his heart had stopped beating. At the look on his face, Lizzie’s own heart turned over and she stepped forward to be joined to Steve until death would part them.

      Margaret confided to Catherine that she wished Tressa’s wedding could have been in the village too, but in the circumstances it was better done in Birmingham where none knew them. Even now, she’d had a few with knowing glances and nudges saying that the baby had made a great turn-out, seeing as he was so premature.

      Lizzie knew this, for the same had been said to her, and she knew her mother was puffed up with pride that she hadn’t been in the same condition as Tressa when she married. In Catherine’s opinion, Lizzie had done well for herself. She was marrying a fine strapping man in a well-paid job and the only haste to the wedding at all was because they had a house waiting for them.

      Margaret would know the manner of house it would be. She’d seen the streets of them when she had gone over for her daughter’s wedding. The pub where the reception had been held was actually in Bell Barn Road, but when Catherine had been over when Lizzie had been so ill, she went only from the hospital and out to Longbridge each day and had no idea. Margaret was glad, at any rate, that her own daughter was out of those crowded, disease-ridden streets. She couldn’t really describe it: you had to see the place, smell the stink in the air and hear the noise to understand it at all. But she didn’t say any of this and Catherine was only worried about one thing, as far as her daughter was concerned, and that was Flo.

      ‘You may have trouble there, Lizzie, for she thinks Steve can do no wrong.’

      ‘Oh, you’ve noticed then?’ Lizzie commented dryly, for Flo’s obsession with her son was obvious even to the most casual observer.

      ‘Does she live far from you?’

      Lizzie wrinkled her nose. ‘Not far enough!’ Then she added, ‘In fairness, Steve did his best. Housing is at a premium and some have to make

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