Mother’s Only Child. Anne Bennett

being cried out for fulfilment, satisfaction for the passion that was almost consuming her.

      Barney’s hand was between her legs, rubbing her and teasing her, until she cried out, ‘Oh, please, please.’ She didn’t know what she was asking for, just something to still the ache burning inside her.

      ‘Are you sure?’ Barney asked.

      ‘Oh, yes. Quick.’

      And then, Maria knew the doctor wasn’t the only one to lie. He’d said Sarah wouldn’t know or care where they took her, and Barney said he wouldn’t hurt her but he did.

      Then it didn’t matter. They clung together, every nerve pulsating and moving as if they were one person. Waves and waves of exquisite joy that went higher and higher, and ever more rapturous, ran through Maria until she thought she’d explode.

      ‘Oh, Barney, I love you, love you, love you,’ she cried as Barney clasped her even closer.

      ‘And I you, you darling girl,’ he said.

      Maria was breathless when it was eventually over, but still she held Barney close. ‘You have your answer,’ she panted. ‘I will be proud to love you and to be your girl.’

      Barney rolled off Maria and lit a cigarette. She lay beside him, satiated, contented in a way she never had been before.

      They wandered back to the village some time later, hand in hand, and Dora had only had to catch the one sight of them to know what they’d been at, for the delight and joy of it still played around Maria’s mouth. Her flushed face, tousled hair and grass-covered clothes told their own tale.

      Sam was too bowed down with shame and guilt to notice anything. God, he’d be glad when the day was over. That look Sarah had given him should have turned him to stone. But he couldn’t, wouldn’t let himself regret the decision to send Sarah away, for now Maria didn’t have the responsibility of her. Best thing he could do was get out of the road to and give the girl back her life. It wasn’t as if he was any bloody use.

      ‘Have you any drink on you, Barney?’ he asked desperately, almost as soon as the man was in the door.

      ‘No, but I’ll get you one, and gladly.’

      ‘Daddy…‘ Maria chided.

      ‘Don’t nag me, child,’ Sam pleaded. ‘Not today of all days. I’ll not get through it at all without a drink.’

      ‘Leave him alone,’ Barney advised Maria at the door. ‘It’s all the poor sod has. You have me. We have each other.’

      ‘Oh, Barney,’ she said, then gasped as he slipped a hand between her legs.

      ‘See what he’s missing? What’s a drop of whiskey?’

      What indeed? Maria was smiling as she closed the door.

      In the cold light of the next day, Maria faced what she had done with Barney and her face flamed with embarrassment. She remembered her abandonment and how she’d given herself so freely that she had begged and pleaded like some sort of wanton. Oh dear Christ, what had she been thinking of? However would she face Barney after this? She’d be barely able to look him in the eye.

      Mind, she told herself, as she got up and dressed, he’d probably not want to see her after the exhibition she’d made of herself. Everyone knew that men would take what was on offer, but if the woman was too easy, they’d throw her to one side when they were done with her. And what if there were consequences, she thought in horror, as she went downstairs. The gasp she gave was so audible, it brought Sam’s rheumy eyes to rest on her.

      She looked at his dear face and knew if she ever had to tell him she was with child and unmarried the shock would kill him. Barney had said he loved her, but hadn’t mentioned marriage. She knew if she should be pregnant and remain unmarried, rather than display that scandal that would drag Sam through the mud as well, she would throw herself into the Foyle.

      She forced herself to smile at her father. ‘Hello, Daddy. How are you feeling?’

      ‘Badly, child.’

      ‘Badly?’

      ‘Aye, inside myself,’ Sam said.

      Maria crossed the room and smoothed down the lines on her father’s forehead. ‘I’ll make us some porridge directly,’ she said. ‘It’s Saturday; I have no work today.’

      ‘I want no porridge,’ Sam said. ‘Just a drop of tea.’

      ‘Daddy, you must have something,’ Maria admonished.

      Sam shook his head. ‘I want nothing, child,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t eat it.’

      ‘Maybe you’ll feel better when you have the tea taken,’ Maria said, but without much hope. However, she was dismayed when she took the tea over to her father to see his hands shaking so badly, she had to hold the cup steady to prevent it spilling all down him. ‘Maybe you’d pour me a wee glass of whiskey after this,’ he said.

      ‘Daddy!’

      ‘To steady myself just,’ Sam said. ‘Go on, be a good girl now. To please your daddy.’

      Feeling anything like a good girl, and very much against her better judgement, Maria poured a sizeable measure of whiskey into a glass and gave it to her father. She hadn’t the time or inclination to argue with him, for Saturday was a busy enough day. After breakfast, she’d have to wash and change her father and put all the soiled linen to boil with the rest she had soaking. She also had the remainder of the wash to see to, the house to clean from top to bottom and the shopping to get in. She set to with a will as soon as she’d eaten, intending to work so hard she would drive the incidents of the previous day from her mind.