The atmosphere had changed as soon as the door knocked; we all pulled our public faces on and made out that we were living in a happy home. Here’s to you young wans, may your children be many and your worries be few, says Arthur, all sombre. John was friendly and nice and took Arthur’s wish for our fertile future in good humour though he was careful not to catch my eye when I choked.

15

Every single morning I ask Bridie if the postman has come, if there’s anything for me, and every single morning she says no. She knows I’m relying on a letter from America to stop me from going to pieces. The Darlings probably wouldn’t have told Joe I’d been sent to Johns Farm, they mightn’t even know, but he could write to me care of The Hill. I need his address: he must be able to understand that? I can’t believe that he will just let me disappear from his life without even finding out why I was so stupid? Does he not at least want to know that I’ve not been drowned in a bog hole by my mother? What kind of love was it if it can be thrown away like a rag? That he’s gone forever without a backward glance stings.

Bridie’s handed over her writing pad with its lined sheet underneath to keep the words straight. I’ve scribbled a thousand words to Lizzie Magee on rough jotters, but every time I try to commit them to the pristine paper I hesitate. There’s lots of ‘sorrys’ and ‘should haves’ and ‘one days’ but I can’t put them into an order that makes me feel less than a total eejit. How can I ever explain to her what’s happened? Or why?

Soon, I’ll get over myself and get a note to her. It’s just a question of what to say and what not to say. The news of the wedding will have got around the whole townland by now. I hope she won’t give up on me. Without the vibrant colour of Lizzie Magee bleeding into me, I’ll disappear again.