Dialogues
I think we've seen about the last of the wet, thank heaven. Three solid months of that rain is enough to send a person round the bend. You say that every year. It's true every year. It was the wet when we first met, wasn't it, Luddie? You were sitting in a mud puddle as I remember. In the mud? Yeah, I fished her out, carried her home. Ruined my only suit. And your life. And my life. There. It's absolutely beautiful. I'll treasure it. You can't do much work during the wet, anyway. Unless you're Luke O'Neill. He and Arne are off to Sydney to work in the sugar refinery until the rains are over. How did he take the news about the baby? Doesn't know yet. I'm gonna write to him tonight. This just might bring him around. The main thing is you'll have that baby. I will. It's been a long time, Father. Welcome home. Thank you, boys. The place looks wonderful. We've had some rough phases. But I think she's coming up right along. Fee. Hello, Ralph. I should be kissing your hand now that you're an archbishop. Fee, not you. How are you? You never tell me a thing when you send me your financial reports. Where's Meggie? Still in Queensland. At least I guess she is. Haven't heard a word since Christmas, and that's been six months. Queensland? Whatever is she doing there? They're settling there, you know. Although we're all wondering if Luke will ever buy a place. Luke's work takes him away most of the time, I gather. So Meggie stays with some friends of his. Luke? Meggie's husband. Ralph, you didn't know Meggie married? Little Meggie? And no one told me? Blimey, did she never write to you? Luke's not Catholic, you see. Meggie wanted to tell you herself. You wanted her to marry. In fact, you're quite good at getting what you want, aren't you? Mary Carson's been dead, how long? And here you are, an archbishop already. What kind of man is this Luke O'Neill that he roams about and doesn't even make a home for Meggie? The ambitious kind. Thank you. All right, you sent for me and here I am. So what do you want? You haven't come since I wrote to you about the baby. I'm sorry you're not happier about it. I don't know why you ever thought I would be. I always told you exactly how I felt about it. Yes, you did. I was wrong. But the fact remains we're going to have a baby and we've got to make some kind of home for it. Too right. And I'm supposed to just fall in line and forget about all the things I want. But we want the same things, don't we? I mean, I want the station, too. You've got a fair way of showing it, giving us another mouth to feed. Please listen, Luke. You said you need about £5,000 more to buy the kind of place you want. At least that. And now Then it's yours. What do you mean? I mean that I can get the money if that's truly what's stopping you from getting us settled. Where can you get it? What difference does it make? It's what you want, isn't it? Answer me. Where? I wrote to Father Ralph in Rome. I know he'll give it to me. You what? Damn you, Meghann! You mightn't have any pride, but I do. I've never taken money from any man much less a flaming Catholic priest. I'm not about to start now! Luke, listen to me. You made your bed, now lay in it. Luke, please don't go. Better let me. What are you doing? I'm going home. Home? Yes, home to Drogheda. Because it's the only home I'll ever have. Luke doesn't want me, and he doesn't want a place. He doesn't want anything. Just to work his guts out in that damn cane until he drops. Have you lost your mind? You can't go anywhere. You're about to have that baby, girl. I don't care! Meggie. I hate Luke! Stop it. And I hate this baby! Stop it, Meggie. She's not strong enough to make it to the hospital. So a cesarean's out of question. You'll just have to hope she has the strength to bear this baby by herself. I've given her as much laudanum as I dared. I'll go sit with her. The midwife's there. So Luke's come, after all. Luddie sent a lad to fetch her husband. Yes, and I ought to thrash him.
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