Free The Magdalen by Marita Conlon-Mckenna

slow set started, and she stopped, wondering if he was going to keep dancing with her or make an excuse and disappear. Wordless, he pulled her into his arms, holding her close. Embarrassed, she blushed as she felt his chin rest on her forehead as he drew her in nearer to him. Her cheek and lips resting against his neck, she longed to kiss him or have him kiss her, though she knew well it was only a slut or a good-time girl would kiss a fellah before a first date. They moved slowly and easily to the rhythm of the music, both totally aware of each other, he running his hand down her back. Suddenly, as if by the switch of a button, the marquee began to fill up as all the couples from outside crowded back in for the last dance of the evening, jostling and pushing and forcing them apart; a frantic medley of songs was played to loud cheers, Con staring at her in amusement as she tried to remind herself where she was, then groans as Mr. King swung into the national anthem, which the crowd joined in and sang. Her three brothers were around her as bright light flooded the dance floor. Fellahs and girls clung together, red-faced and warm. Con squeezed her hand, and to tell the truth Esther didn’t want to let him go. She hoped that he’d ask her out on a date or say something about seeing her again, but for some reason he didn’t.
    â€œEsther, will ye-hurry up, Ger wants to bring us home now!” called Tom. “He’s giving Carmel a ride home too and he wants to drop us off first.”

    She watched as her brother disappeared through the awning. “I’m sorry, Con, but I have to go or I’ll miss my lift home.”
    Con had his arm wrapped around her, and she wished above everything else that the night didn’t have to end so soon.
    â€œEsther!” Donal was shouting at her now. “Ger says if you don’t come on he’ll go without you!”
    â€œYou’d better go!” advised Con, releasing her.
    She was disappointed, but tried to appear bright and bubbly, as if it didn’t really matter at all if she never laid eyes on him again. Reluctantly she followed her brother out to the waiting truck. Carmel was there, sitting right up beside Ger.
    â€œDid you enjoy yourself?” asked her brothers.
    â€œI saw Eddie was taking good care of you,” joked Gerard. She didn’t even bother to reply. “He’s a good lad, with a big spread of land up beyond the lake. I’m telling you, you could do worse.”
    Esther concentrated on looking out into the blackness of the fields and ditches as they drove along the bumpy roads. She closed her eyes. Her mother would be waiting with the kettle boiled, dying to hear how they had all got on. She smiled to herself, squashed between her brothers’ knees. God, she loved dancing. She wished that she could go dancing every night of the year.
    She thought of the stranger, closing her eyes as they drove through the darkness. She might not have been so quick to say no if it had been Conor O’Hagan holding her hand and asking her to take a walk outside in the moonlight.

Chapter Eight
    G erard Doyle had formed a plan. It had taken shape in his brain over the years, as ambition and greed became his driving force. He had never got over his father’s tragic death and the resulting hardship they had all endured. He had had to become the man of the family and assume responsibility for his mother and brothers and two sisters. The farm itself was growing bit by bit and eventually the old one who lived near them would be called home to meet her Maker, and he might get the chance to buy her few acres. The parish was full of old folk, t’was only a matter of biding his time. They had the fishing-boat, the Corrib Queen, purchased with funds raised by the parish, and a top-up loan from the
bank to fit a new engine. The fishing was going well and Donal was a good worker; eventually the other lads could work for him too, once