Barney’s face fell. ‘I’m real sorry about that, Mr Foley,’ he said respectfully enough. ‘There’s sod all doing in Moville just now.’
Sam suddenly felt sorry for the lad. Maybe Barney could be turned around yet, he thought. After all, he was just twenty. Maybe all he needed was a helping hand.
‘I think you’re right,’ Sarah said that evening, when Sam discussed it with her. ‘If you don’t want the man on your team, why not give him a job at the boatyard? He can do the work you’ve picked up in Buncrana from the Lough Swilly fishing boats. Willie is too old to make the journey to Buncrana more that a time of two, but he’ll be there to keep him in line.’
Sam offered this position to Barney, though he knew Willie, who’d been in the boatyard since he’d been a lad, working for his late father, wouldn’t be able to keep anyone in line. He’d never been that sort and now the old man’s mind had begun to slip. Sam kept him on only out of kindness. He didn’t even pick up a wage any more, for he said he was fine with his pension and he just loved being around and dealing with boats.
Sam said none of this to Sarah, but what he did say was, ‘Tell that teacher our Maria can go to that Academy place now. I’ll be earning enough soon to pay for her accommodation.’
‘The girl knows nothing about any academy, sure,’ Sarah said to Sam.
‘Surely she should have this chance?’
‘Not at all,’ Sarah said. ‘She’s not that type of child.’
‘I wonder what Sean would think about it,’ Sam mused.
Sean was the only sibling Sarah had left. She loved him dearly and thought a lot of his opinion. He’d been delighted when Maria was born and took great joy in her, seeing in his niece the child he might never have. Despite the confines of the farm, he saw the family as often as he could. Maria in turn adored her uncle.
Sean had often regretted that his beloved niece would be brought up on her own, but accepted it as the will of God, like he’d accepted the idea that she wouldn’t be able to go to Grafton Academy, despite her gift, when Sarah had told him of the teacher’s visit. Now, the opportunity was there again as Sarah explained when Sean next visited her. He fastened his wise brown eyes upon Sarah and said, ‘It would be wrong to deny her the chance at least of trying for the scholarship.’
‘Ah, Sean, how can you say that? You know I only have Maria.’
‘You cannot chain her to your side,’ Sean said. ‘God knows, I’m well aware what that feels like.’
‘You don’t like the farm, do you?’
Sean sighed. ‘It isn’t me we’re talking of. If Maria ever found out that you denied her this chance, she might hold it against you.’
Sarah couldn’t bear the thought of that. Later, reluctantly, she said to Sam, ‘I’ll contact Philomena and see what Maria has to do.’
Maria, who hadn’t any idea of the things being planned for her, was ecstatic when she was told. The light of excitement danced in her eyes at the thought of being given the chance of such a glittering and wonderful future, doing something she enjoyed above all else. She had no problem with the work Philomena set for her, either. The teacher explained that the academic standard was high too, and Maria would have to work hard if she wanted to secure a scholarship.
Maria told Greg all about the plans for her future as soon as she could, and though he was sincerely pleased for her and said so, other worries had been pressing on his mind after Dunkirk. One of these was the thought that it was wrong to sit out the war in Ireland, when Britain was in such dire straits. While he was milking the cows, hoeing the ground for planting and feeding the pigs, many like him were away fighting the enemy.
He turned this over and over in his mind. Phil, the brother nearest to him in age, was fifteen now and had left school, Billy was thirteen, and both of them were now well able to help their father. The girls, still at school, already helped their mother.
That same night Maria told Greg about the Academy, he told his father he wanted to enlist. Greg’s father wasn’t surprised, for he knew how the lad felt about farming. He respected him for the fact he had never shown any resentment and worked alongside him as hard as the next man. He knew too that Greg was worried about the war, the more so since Dunkirk.
‘You’ve never taken to this life, have you, Greg?’ he asked.
‘No, Dad,’ Greg said. ‘I know why you took the place on and that if we were to make a go of it we had to work hard. Phil and Billy were too young to be of any use, but now…‘
‘Now they are,’ his father finished the sentence for him. ‘You must do as you feel fit. What outfit were you thinking of joining—the Fusiliers, the Inniskillings?’
‘No, Dad,’ Greg said. ‘There is only one regiment for me. I want to go back to Birmingham and join the Royal Warwickshires.’
His father clapped him on the back. ‘Good on you, son.’
‘There’s just Mom,’ Greg said. ‘She’s bound to be upset.’
‘Leave your mother to me.’
However, Greg’s mother wailed and cried, and held her son tight as if she’d never let him go. When all this failed she said, ‘And what of Maria in all this? I know you are sweet on her.’
‘She is set for two years yet in the Academy in Dublin next year if she passes the scholarship,’ Greg said. ‘There is no understanding between us, although I will ask her to write. She will understand I must follow my heart, as she is doing.’
Greg’s mother said no more. She knew she had lost.
Maria was sad to see Greg leave, but soon she was too busy to miss anyone. She had little time for a social life—for going around the village arm in arm with giggling girlfriends, or having a day in Derry. She wrote to Greg, though they were letters only of one friend to another. Now, in her next letter, she could tell him all the extra work and worry was over and her future was set.
When Maria reached the boatyard to tell Willie Brannigan her news, the first people she saw were Barney McPhearson taking his ease outside, talking to his brother, Seamus. She knew her father wouldn’t like Seamus hanging about the boatyard, for he always said he was a bad influence on his younger brother, but what could he do, away in Derry everyday, even if she were to tell him? And what could she tell him? Only that Barney was talking to his brother. She had no idea if Seamus was a regular visitor to the boatyard. Maybe he’d just popped in today with a message. Surely Willie would mention it if he were worried?
Barney’s eyes lit up when he caught sight of Maria approaching, for he had a great fancy for the girl. ‘Now isn’t this a sight for sore eyes, or any eyes at all, for that matter,’ he addressed Seamus. The older man looked her all over, his leering eyes raking her body in a way that made Maria feel uncomfortable.
She had no time for it, and none at all for Seamus, so she gave neither a greeting and asked instead, ‘Where’s Willie?’
‘In the boathouse,’ Barney said. ‘What’s up?’
‘Nothing,’ Maria said. ‘It’s not that important. Well, I mean it is to me. I got this today,’ and she handed Barney the letter.
Barney had known about Maria taking the exam for the Academy and hadn’t been pleased. He was a handsome, well-set-up young man, and most girls and young women were falling over themselves to be noticed by him. But Maria, the one he wanted, seemed not a bit impressed by him. He had no desire for her to be spirited away to Dublin and snapped up by another, but he sensed that to say so wasn’t the way to play this and so he congratulated her warmly.
‘Why, that’s tremendous, so it is, Maria,’ he said, taking the paper from her hand. ‘D’you see this?’ he said to Seamus, pointing at it. ‘Our Maria here has won a scholarship to a fancy academy, in Dublin no less.’
Seamus