Free Till the Sun Shines Through by Anne Bennett Page A

of them were given a meal. It was part of her childhood; the time she thought would go on for ever with no change.
    Now she walked alongside Frank and there wasn’t the hint of a song from her often morose uncle. The fun had gone out of it as it had gone out of a lot of things. These were now just chores to be done in order to get by for another year.
    However, at last, the day of the Harvest Dance arrived. Frank was to take them up to it and bring them home afterwards, but at the last minute he went down with flu and wasn’t able to. ‘We can go ourselves,’ Bridie insisted. ‘Haven’t we often enough for the socials?’
    â€˜Not tonight,’ Sarah said. ‘Some of these young fellows will have the drink on them. Lord knows what they’ll be up to once the night’s over.’
    â€˜Well, sure I’ll take them up,’ Jimmy said, ‘and go to collect them.’
    â€˜Aye, but you’ll not know when it might be finishing,’ Sarah said. ‘Ask Francis. He often goes up to the dance himself.’
    Bridie wanted desperately to protest. She wanted to say she’d have anyone but Francis, but remained silent, afraid of what her uncle might say if she spoke aloud her fears. She resolved to stick to Rosalyn and her friends like glue.
    Later, when her uncle Francis called for her, he stood speechless in the yard, wondering if Bridie had any idea how tempting she looked dressed in her finery as she stood framed in the doorway with the lamp behind her. Her eyes were sparkling and her face aglow with excitement at the thought of going to her first real dance and her dark brown hair, which she had rinsed in rain water earlier that day, shone as it bounced on her shoulders.
    The blood coursed through Francis’s veins as he stared at her. He caught a glimpse of one bare shoulder as she adjusted the beautiful stole about her and picked up her bag where she had put the soft kid boots, wrapped in paper. These boots were the loveliest footwear she’d ever owned and she had no desire to tramp across the bog and rocks of Ireland in them, her old working boots would do well enough for that.
    Many must have had the same thought as Francis, for Bridie was in great demand all night at the dance and had such a good time that she barely noticed her uncle at the bar, drinking steadily and watching her broodingly.
    Lots of the young girls had their eye on some fellow or other and Bridie knew a lot of couples often began walking out from the Harvest Dance. ‘Anyone you fancy?’ said a girl in Bridie’s ear. ‘You have plenty of choice anyway, for you’ve seldom been off your feet all night. You must have danced with half the men in the room.’
    But none of the men had stirred Bridie in any way. Quite a few had asked if they could see her again, begin walking out with her, and she’d immediately shied away. She had no wish to be unkind, and just said she was not ready for that level of commitment yet, but she saw the disappointment on all of their faces.
    She refused to worry much about it though. She was here to enjoy herself and that’s what she intended to do and she told Rosalyn the same as the two went arm in arm back to the dance floor after the Harvest Supper.
    It was as they came back into the hall that a girl said to Rosalyn, ‘Won’t you miss all this?’, the sweep of her arm taking in everything.
    â€˜I suppose,’ Rosalyn muttered, her eyes avoiding those of her cousin.
    â€˜What did she mean?’ Bridie asked when the girl was out of earshot.
    It was obvious that Rosalyn was uncomfortable. Bridie saw her lick her lips nervously before she replied, ‘Didn’t your Aunt Ellen say? I saw her talking to Mammy when she came over and I thought
    â€˜What are you on about?’
    â€˜I’m … I’m leaving.’
    â€˜Leaving?’
    â€˜Leaving here. Leaving Ireland.’
    â€˜Leaving Ireland?’