Happy New Year to all! This story is rather different for me because most of the time it seems I'm writing about Tom and Sybil getting together but this story starts with them already married and living in Dublin.
The crowded pub had been quite warm so the bitter chill in the air as they exited the building was unexpected. Hoping to ward off the coldness, Sybil pulled her scarf a bit tighter and looped her arm more tightly around Tom's arm. Even more surprising than the cold, although really what did one expect in Dublin on New Year's Eve, were the number of people out on the pavements. Despite the political situation, people seemed happy, at least for this evening, and as strangers passed strangers they greeted each other with a smile, a doff of their hats and a Happy New Year, the latteroften in that, to Sybil, unpronounceable Gaeilge. Despite the efforts of Tom and his friends at the pub, Sybil could not quite master the phrase so she resorted to nodding her head and giving a dazzling smile.
It wasn't a long walk back to their flat which was located between the River Liffey and Trinity College, an area much more accepting of a couple such as Tom and Sybil. Money was tight with Tom's earnings from the newspaper a pittance and no hospital willing to hire the English Sybil and she had been dismayed by the small bleak and dreary flats that they could afford. Then one of Tom's fellow journalists had told him of a flat for let by his cousin's wife's brother-in-law (or some such far flung contact that Sybil had come to learn was how much of Dublin operated). Situated over a used furniture store, the flat was larger and far nicer than anything they had looked at and it was affordable if Tom agreed to occasionally drive the store's delivery truck and Sybil worked at the store.
Their stroll was interrupted when Sybil suddenly stopped walking causing a moment of alarm in Tom.
"Is something the matter" he asked before realizing that Sybil's attention seemed to be on the display windows of the store in front of them. It was a store that Tom knew from his childhood for it was one of the finest toy stores in Dublin with a collection of toys that he knew no matter how much he wanted them nor how good he had been that year that Father Christmas would never bring to his house.
"Sybil" he stammered as he looked from the store window to her face. "It's a bit late love Father Christmas has already come and gone."
He waited for her to say something but she continued to stare at the store windows and he knew that look on her face that meant she was thinking of something specific. Was she thinking of her own childhood? A childhood that was a million miles away from his. Or was she thinking of the child she was carrying who would have a childhood more like his? After a few moments he tightened his arm around her waist. "And I think you'll have to work an amazing number of hours at the store to afford the wee one something from this place."
"I was just thinking that" she hesitated as a merry group passed them their laughter filling the air as they ambled down the street.
But when she turned to face him she didn't tell him what she had been thinking as she looked at the shop display window instead offering "You know I've never been in a pub on New Year's Eve before."
"I'm glad I could give you a new adventure" he laughingly replied. Then bringing his face close to hers, his eyes twinkling, he added "and I can think of something else you've done on New Year's Ever before."
"Well I'm sure there's lots of things I've never done on New Year's Eve" she responded tilting her face in that Lady Sybil way. "I've never gone fishing or milked a cow or swum in the ocean or" his outburst of laughter stopped her recitation.
"So next year I should plan a trip to a farm near the ocean?" he jokingly stated after recovering from his laughter. Then, the twinkle in his eye, belying the serious look on his face, he added "you know with all those things the end is the same."
Now it was her turn to look perplexed while his face broke out in a big grin. "I mean you'd have to wash up after swimming or fishing or, meaning you'd have to get naked, meaning …"
xxxxxx
Sybil woke suddenly as if there had been a sharp unexpected noise that crashed her slumber. She opened her eyes to a bedroom bathed in that light grey of that time just before dawn and whatever it was that had so suddenly awoken her must have been a part of her dreams for the only sound was the light gentle snoring of her still sleeping husband. Sybil turned her head to glance at Tom who lay beside her nestled beneath the covers with only his face from the chin up visible.
With his tousled hair he looked so much like the angelic little boy his mother often talked about and Sybil couldn't help but smile. Her inclination was to run her hand through that hair and kiss his forehead but she pulled her hand away before touching him. He had been working so hard lately and he deserved one morning to sleep in although she wasn't sure if it was tiredness from work or the pints he had last night that had him still sleeping this morning.
Last night … Sybil sat up. Today wasn't just a new day it was a near year! She leaned back against the sturdy headboard and thought my life started anew last year. It's like I've finished one book and began another only this new book is so completely different. She looked around the bedroom, a room of functional furniture not passed down from generation to generation but saved from trash bins or estate sales and restored to usability, a room bare of decoration except for two wooden framed photographs sitting atop the dresser. Although the light in the room was too dark to see them she knew one of the photographs was from their wedding and the other from an all too rare day at the beach. Looking again at her sleeping husband, a sly smile spread across her face as she thought that it was here in this room where she had discovered the physical pleasures of married life.
Maybe she should … heavens knows it wasn't difficult to get Tom to …giving one last regretful look at his peaceful face she slightly shook her head. Too restless to stay in bed, moving slowly and quietly she rose from the bed, slipping her feet into her soft slippers and wrapping herself in her dressing gown, she took one long last long at Tom before shutting the door behind her as she headed for the sitting room.
Deciding to fix a cup of tea, she headed for the kitchen before settling down in her favorite chair, an overly stuffed lounge chair in a faded floral cotton print. Putting her feet up on the matching ottoman and setting her tea cup on the small table, she sat back and looked across the long wide sitting room which ran the length of the front of the flat. The room was bereft of any architectural detailing, no crown molding or cornices, no ornate woodwork or crystal chandeliers, no marble fireplace. The floors were of a wide-plank oak and the walls were painted a light yellow which gave the room a sunny look especially when the drapes were open on the four wide windows and sunshine poured into the room.
The furnishings, like that in the rest of the flat, had come with the flat and all of it had been restored or refurbished by Mr. O'Hanan the owner of the building and former tenant of the flat. Since his wife had died some three years previously, Mr. O (as Sybil would call him) had moved to a small flat in back of the furniture store. Sybil had made her mark on the room by selling one of her rings and using the money to buy new draperies, a couple of throw pillows for the sofa and a small woven rug for this nook where she now sat.
Before sitting down, Sybil had pulled back the drapes so she could look out the window. The sky had now turned a light gray with the promise of a soon to rise sun. The street, usually bustling at this time of morning with workers and shopkeepers, was quiet on this first morning of the new year. With most of the shops remaining closed today, Sybil knew it would stay rather quiet most of the day. To celebrate the new year, Mr. O was hosting a dinner for his workers later this afternoon. He had returned from his Christmas holidays at his daughter's farm near Athlone with sacks of potatoes, onions, turnips, slabs of bacon, and a large pork roast. Sybil would contribute to the feast with two cakes she had baked and hot rolls she had yet to bake.
But as she sat here staring out the window on this early morning, Sybil's thoughts were not on the upcoming festive dinner. Instead she was much more reflective thinking on this past year and her new life. In many ways it had been much harder than she had ever imagined. Despite all the time she had taken in contemplating Tom's proposal, she wasn't really prepared for the realities; of washing laundry, of scrubbing floors, of haggling at food markets, of trying to stretch their meager budget, of being despised for being English. The last had been the hardest of all for even Tom's family hadn't opened their hearts to her at least not initially but slowly she was accepted by most although there were still a few that ignored her at family gatherings. In some shops she knew the prices were raised or she was ignored the moment they heard her speak.
Despite all that she had no regrets about coming to Ireland for there had been much good these past few months foremost of which was Tom. Their life here might not be the luxurious life of her past or an easy one but they were together and that was the life she wanted.
She thought back to early this morning walking home from the pub when she had stopped in front of that toy store where she saw the fancy train sets and those elegant porcelain dolls and she thought of the child she was now carrying. She couldn't give this child those material things, the things of her childhood. But she could give her child something much more important, she could give her child unconditional love and the encouragement and freedom to explore the world around them. Her child would know what it was like to run barefoot in the grass, the joy of playing in mud puddles, the delight of feeling a gentle rain spraying on their face, the thrill of chasing butterflies, all those types of things that she was constantly reminded were unlady-like behavior.
"What has you up so early this morning?" Tom's voice startled her for she was unaware of his close presence.
"Early?" she laughed. "Have you checked the time?"
"It's just-" his eyes widened as he saw the clock sitting atop tall chest near the doorway.
"I guess things were just a little too exhausting for you last night … I mean this morning" she remarked. "Should I fix you some tea and eggs and bacon in hopes of restoring your energy?"
xxxx
"I can't believe you announced about the baby" Tom said as they walked up the stairs to the door of their flat.
"I didn't mean to Tom" Sybil replied. "It just came out when we were talking about the future."
"I mean we haven't even told my mother yet."
"Well I hardly think she's going to hear about it from Mr. O or anyone else at the dinner."
Entering their flat, Tom automatically reached for the lamp on the table next to the doorway.
"It's just that we were talking about what we hope the near year brings and it just came out" Sybil stated continuing the conversation. "I'm sorry."
"Oh Sybil" Tom reached out and took his wife into his arms. "I'm not angry. I was just surprised that the first people we told are practically a group of strangers."
"Well Mr. O isn't a stranger Tom" Sybil smiled. "And he did say he'd be on the lookout for a crib."
Tom chuckled. "Always so practical Sybil."
"Well we do need to start thinking of these things Tom. There's a lot you need for a baby and it might seem like a way off but it will be here before we know it."
"It's only January 1 and you've already got us zooming ahead to summer."
"Well I just want to be prepared."
But 1920 was a turbulent year in Ireland and nothing could prepare Tom or Sybil for what the year would bring.
