Anna
WHEN PEGGY GOES OUT THE door, something leaves me. My inhibition, perhaps, I don’t know, but I say something I’m not supposed to say.
‘Jack nearly was a father, in Kilmarra.’
Her eyes widen, but she is too polite to give a big reaction.
It’s just because we were talking about babies, that’s all.
And if nothing else, it will keep her interested in us.
In me. For some reason, I feel compelled to share it with her.
I suppose there is no reason I should be keeping this a secret.
It didn’t even happen in the end. There was no baby, why hide from it?
Suddenly I feel faint. I turn away to look out the window. And I must be looking out the window for a long time, because the next thing I know, Betty is sitting right next to me, holding my hand, asking if I’m okay. All the power of her touch, resurfacing.
The lads come in the door of the house, with Peggy between them. It’s time to leave. I don’t have time to explain what I’ve said.
Tom starts doing his Gay Byrne voice for Betty.
I wouldn’t have known that’s who he was impersonating if I wasn’t told.
But her laugh sounds genuine. I feel so stupid, standing here listening to them all laughing, smiling, and I have to pretend that it doesn’t bother me that I wasn’t invited to watch The Late Late Show with them, and that I wouldn’t have liked to try American peppers.
That I was too busy to be there anyway, but I’m so glad that everybody had a nice time.
That I don’t feel like a perpetual afterthought.
‘Have you all your bits, love?’
Betty asks, and I know better than to think she is talking to me. Peggy answers her, I don’t listen, but I see them hugging. Betty looks at me like she wants to keep talking. I have to ignore it. Tom pats the top of Peggy’s head, and she shoves his hand away.
‘Oh, those boys have no idea about beauty, have they, Peggy?’
Betty says, winking at Tom, and smooths down Peggy’s hair.
I stand still, watching it all. Unsure how to make myself a part of this moment so it doesn’t become another memory that doesn’t involve me.
Bill mentions the name of an old neighbour that sometimes helps him on the farm, Paddy Murphy, and I sense Tom sharpening.
Jealousy. Maybe Tom will try to spook that man away from the Nevans’ farm.
Maybe the next time he shows up to the farm, he will be limping, not meeting Tom’s eye.
I try to put myself in the conversation, but there’s no room for me. It’s time we left.
As we walk out the gate, I hear Betty asking Bill,
‘Did you ever hear of a place called Kilmarra?’
We leave, and I feel like she is being taken from me.
Walking home, I can’t find my centre. I’m sure it’s fine that I told her about Jack and the baby.
Sure we were talking about babies, weren’t we, and when they don’t come to be.
I’m sure it’s fine. I’m sure it won’t make a blind bit of difference.
My Betty, unable to have a child of her own.
Imagine. I must admit, something about it warms me.
And with a jolt I realise how much she has already come to mean to me, and how afraid I would be to lose her.
She makes my thoughts feel real. Not like abstract things I can’t get a hold of or pin down or make sense of.
She grounds me. Maybe she is the centre I have lost. I want to touch her.
To hold on to her for just a moment and let her know what her company means to me.
Although, given the chance, I couldn’t really put it into words.