Brendan begins sneaking meetings with Joanna...
Finally, I came up with the bright idea of writing her a letter...and even better, putting it in an early Christmas card. But I couldn't use my return address; that would cause all manner of trouble.
For the first time in my life, I wished I had someone I could talk to and confide in, but I knew better than to ask Eamonn, for he could not keep a secret, and none of me Chinas were adult enough to help. Especially since she was Protestant. They would make a full riot over that, alone, not to mention I was after a girl.
But then I overheard Mr. Curran from up the road telling a mate, "I use my work address, not things like that, never home."
"I don't even put one," was the reply. "And I have me sister mail it, from Newry. No tracing me that way.
Well...that was the answer, and dropped down to me from heaven above. I hurried up to my room and spent the rest of the day writing the letter...over and over and over, must have been a hundred times before I settled on:
Hi, it's Billy Corrie, "as known." I know I'm just a Catholic lad and have no right to ask this, but I wonder if you'd like to have tea with me, some time? Like at the Diplomat? Just to chat. Nothing special. But I did enjoy the day we had, and hope you did, too. Sincerely, Brendan...Kinsella (my real name) PS Here's my real address if you want to reply.
I'd met a couple of lorry drivers so asked one if he'd post the card from Belfast, once he got there. He agreed, but first wanted his fluids checked. "She's been runnin' warm," he growled.
I looked at his engine, right there, and saw he was low on both oil and coolant. "I think there's a leak," I said. "These shouldn't be so far gone."
He nodded, bought me the oil and coolant and I refilled them. I didn't see any other issues, but that doesn't mean anything. Not really.
Two weeks later, I was all but certain she'd laughed off my letter and tossed it in the bin when I got a card from her. It's good I was home when the post came, for Ma noticed it and huffed, "Who's writing to you?"
"It...it's a card, Ma," I said. "Might be from one of the drivers I helped...with his lorry...you know."
She gave me a scowl that said she didn't believe me, but before she could say or do another word, I raced up to my room and opened it.
The card was lovely. A winter scene in an English village, with sparkling sprinkles on it...and inside was a little note.
Dear Brendan, I enjoyed our day, as well, and thought you handled what I now see could have become a difficult situation with maturity and grace. Meeting for tea at The Diplomat sounds lovely. I usually shop in Waterloo the evenings of Tuesdays and Fridays, often with Mother. Saturdays are with Angela and Louise, so I don't think that would be a good day. I hope to see you, soon. Sincerely, Joanna. P.S. Thanks to my childish brother, Charles, it may be best not to be seen with each other, just yet.
Maturity! Grace! I was beyond ecstatic. So after school was done, that Thursday, I made my way past the checkpoint to hang around Wellies, making sure all knew I was merely out to see if I could get a couple repair jobs from a local shopkeeper. When I told the soldiers of my abilities, they tried to test me, with one joking, “Here, me radio keeps dying off.”
I took a look the battery first, and quickly saw it was old and had been wet and was corroded. I used a toothpick to clean much of it and told him, "Get a new battery, and don't get it wet, this time."
His mate laughed and said, "Tol' yer it was cuz yer took in the sho'er, ya nutter."
But it turned out me having Blues on me was what helped most. Nothing like a smoke to make you mates with a lad but five or six years older than yourself.
Then I did my rounds, keeping a close eye for Joanna and her mother. It was close on five when I saw her crossing at the toilet and did what I could to make her see me before her Mother could notice. She smiled her smile for me, not looking my way but obvious enough, so I rushed to the Diplomat and ordered tea and cakes.
"A lady will soon be joining me," I said, grandly.
A few minutes later, there she came, dressed so much like she was the first day I saw her I took in a sharp breath. "I haven't much time," she said as she sat, breathless. "Mum thinks I'm looking at new shoes. She'll be looking for me, soon."
"I'm just glad you could come," I replied, just as breathless.
She fixed her tea with milk, only, and took but a single bite of cake in so fine and delicate a manner, I felt like a lumbering fool.
"Was there much trouble for you, when I was at your house?"
She giggled. "Charles tried, but in no way could he cause trouble for me. I just told my parents you were a fine young man who escorted me home, and I'd hear nothing more about it. Then I made certain Charles learned what real trouble was." She took a sip of tea then added, "He'll never bother me, again."
I chuckled. "I don't think I want to know what trouble you caused him."
"It's better that way." And her eyes twinkled of mischief.
"Is he your only one?"
"Brother? Oh, no. There's Robert, working in Westminster, and John, at some government office in Sheffield. Mum's from Liverpool and wrote a book about workhouses in the UK. It was published."
"Cool. You're the daughter of an author."
"Such as it is."
"Is that what you're going to be?"
"Oh, no. I'm working towards my Eleven-plus and aiming for university. I want to be a doctor." It was like her entire world was a galaxy apart from mine. "So what family do you have? A dozen brothers and sisters?"
"No, just...not half that many."
"You're not living up to that silly stereotype."
"Well...me Da's not around."
"Oh?" Another sip of tea.
"He's...he's dead."
"Oh, I'm sorry." And she placed her hand on mine.
I had to fight a giggle, of all things, and say, "Thanks. But it's been near four years so..."
"Still, it must be hard for you and your mother."
The concern in her voice told me she really meant it, and I near melted. "We...we're doing well enough."
"You seem like you're strong enough to." Then she gasped and said, "Just saw Mum cross the street. She's looking for me." She bolted to her feet and started away then spun back and gripped my hand. "Till next time?"
All I could was nod before she grinned and was gone.
We were able to see each other once a week, that way, if only for a few minutes. I would do my rounds. Return items I’d fixed or pick up new ones. Keep a close eye for her and her Mother. Then make sure she saw me before her Mother could notice and rush to the Diplomat and order tea and cakes. She would give her Ma some excuse and sneak over to where I’d be waiting, and I never stopped taking in a sharp breath at seeing her bolt through the entrance to join me.
I know I sounded a proper fool to her, talking about my mates in careful ways. Bloody telling her how I’d repaired an air nozzle at McClosky’s shop then complaining because his son, Diarmaid, took credit. How Eamonn was at Queens and doing well. How Mairead was back to her job and doing well, since Ma was keeping an eye on Michael Paul, and doing well. How my brothers and sister were doing well. How our new home was doing us well. How I was doing well. How helping the shopkeepers with decimalization was doing well. I didn’t notice my constant repetition of how well we were doing till she made sport of me by repeating it back. I’d laughed, in response, and said I’d take a course in public speaking.
What we never spoke of was how we felt about each other. I’d compliment her clothes, always different, always lovely. She’d say I looked smart, even though I was in the same uniform, every time -- jacket, shirt and bell-bottom trousers, a jumper. She liked the curls in my hair, now I was letting it grow. I loved the light braid she’d sometimes put hers into. It all felt so very right and wonderful.
Then Christmas came and I searched for days to get the right present for her and found it at Sproule’s on Carlisle. A gold heart pendant on a light chain. Cost me six quid, but when I slipped the box to her and saw her eyes light up when she opened it, I knew I’d have been happy to have spent a hundred.
She slipped it around her neck, whispering, “Oh, Brendan, I haven’t anything nearly so fine to give you.”
“You like it, then?” I asked, as if I needed to.
Her smile both chided me and told me without question she did. She dipped into her bag and pulled out a small package. “I had no end of trouble buying this when I saw it,” she said. “Charlie would’ve made a scene, he’s such a brat. I'll be so glad when he's off to RAM.”
"Ram?"
"Royal Academy of Music. Fancies himself the next Bach. Beethoven. Brahms. Maybe even Mozart. Never. I've heard his compositions."
I laughed and opened my present to find a lovely set of wee turnscrews within a small flap. I burst into a grin to hide how much it overwhelmed me.
She watched me, actually wary. “You mentioned trouble you were having with some smaller things you were repairing...”
“This is perfect,” I managed to whisper. “Exactly what I needed. Thank you.”
“Mum’ll be looking for me,” she said as she finished her tea, then added with a wink, “I’d best be in the music section of Wellie’s when she finds me, this time.”
I nodded and rose with her, and she smiled and hesitated then leaned over to let her lips give me the lightest of kisses on my nose before she rushed out, crying “Happy Christmas” as she went.
Oh, yes, it was. It was. The happiest of my life.
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