The Boatman's Wife(71)

Mullaghmore, 26th September 1992





Niamh sat on her bed, holding the ferry ticket to Wales in her shaking hands. She was certain she’d made the right choice, but she was still terrified. Wishing she didn’t have to take this journey completely alone. But there was no way she could tell her mam. Although Rosemary could be very open-minded about lots of things, Niamh knew the idea of her daughter going for an abortion would break her heart. She’d try to stop her. Probably promise to help bring up the baby. But Niamh wasn’t ready to be a mother, especially not a single mother. Once she’d decided she was going to have an abortion, she wanted to do it as soon as possible. She had wanted to tell Jesse – but he had never called her up as he’d promised. She had no number for him, and no address. All she knew was he lived in a boatyard in Cape Cod. She missed Jesse. The pregnancy could have been a way to guilt him into coming back or sending for her. But she didn’t want to be with anyone on those terms.

She folded up the ferry ticket and put it in her handbag. She had booked a room in a B&B in Hammersmith, close to the abortion clinic. Her plan was to drive to the ferry port and take the night boat. She would sleep for a few hours in the car in Holyhead, then drive all the way across Wales and England to arrive in London tomorrow afternoon. She wasn’t looking forward to the ferry. She was feeling queasy enough as it was. Throwing up at all times of day. She found it particularly hard if she forgot to eat anything for breakfast, and the stink of cigarette smoke in the bar at night made her feel vile. It was all she could do not to puke in front of punters as they lit up.

Niamh checked the contents of her bag again. A couple of changes of clothes, big knickers, and a wad of sanitary pads.

She bit her lip. She wasn’t going to cry, and she wasn’t going to overthink this. She just had to get on with it.

She went downstairs to make some sandwiches for the journey. Her mam was in the kitchen.

‘Your trip is all very sudden.’

‘Well, I thought it was high time I caught up with Teresa,’ Niamh lied. ‘She says she’s having such a grand time in London.’

Her mam came up behind her, put her arms around Niamh’s waist, and hugged her.

‘I’ll miss you, darling,’ she said. ‘But you deserve to have some fun.’

She could feel her mam’s sympathy. She thought Niamh was down because Jesse had left. If only she knew the whole truth.

‘I’ll only be gone a few days.’ Niamh looked away from her mam, so she wouldn’t see the tears beginning to bud in her eyes.

Her mam picked up the van keys from the dresser. ‘I’d best be going; folks complain if they don’t get their post until five in the afternoon.’

‘Sure, they’re well used to you, Mammy,’ Niamh said, as a voice inside her screamed to stop her mam from leaving. To tell her what had happened. How frightened she was.

‘Have a safe trip, darling.’

After her mam was gone, Niamh stood at the kitchen counter, toying with her toast as she stared out of the window. She should be getting on the road soon, but something made her reluctant. She looked out at the overgrown back garden. It was only a month since Jesse had left, but summer was well and truly over. The leaves were slipping from the trees to become a multi-coloured mulch on the ground. Niamh opened the back door and inhaled the scent of the wet land, the dripping foliage, as she walked across the garden towards her dad’s old shed. The grass was still heavy with dew, and her black DMs made footprints in the damp green.

Inside the murky interior of the shed, she sat on the old mattress, closing her eyes and remembering Jesse. It seemed like a dream. A magic kingdom of love that she’d slipped into for a few weeks – and now she was returned to hard reality.

Niamh heard a car pulling up outside in the yard. Had her mam forgotten something? But as she opened the shed door, she saw Brendan getting out of his car. Anxiety flooded her whole body. He couldn’t have picked a worse time to turn up.



Brendan took a seat at the kitchen table while Niamh put the kettle on.

‘Brendan, I’m away to London for a few days,’ she said, turning to him, hearing her voice all high and panicked. ‘I have to leave soon. You never let me know you were coming.’

She hadn’t seen her cousin since the day after the road rally festival, although she’d spoken to him on the phone. When they’d spoken, she’d still been angry about the nightmare experience of smuggling the explosives with Deirdre. But she’d decided not to say anything, because she had no one else to turn to for money for the ferry ticket and the abortion. She’d told him that she and Mam had got behind with the bills. Anyway, she felt he owed her.

‘Is that what you needed the money for?’ Brendan asked her now, as she placed a mug of steaming tea in front of him. She felt him scrutinising her face, and she tried not to look him in the eyes. He knew her so well. ‘You desperately needed to borrow three hundred pounds because you’re going on a little holiday?’

She could hear the disbelief in his voice, but she said nothing. Made herself a cup of tea instead. She was going to be under pressure to make the ferry if Brendan didn’t budge soon.

‘Where’s the American? Shouldn’t he be funding your trip to London?’ Brendan said in a cold voice.

Niamh went very still, her tea bag dripping off the teaspoon onto the kitchen counter. She didn’t dare turn around, but she felt Brendan standing up behind her. Staring at the back of her.