Leaving clare, p.11
Leaving Clare, page 11
She had planned to ask another neighbour to swap a big chicken for some of the home-grown potatoes and vegetables that they carefully hoarded in the barn and couldn’t believe their luck and good timing when Stephen came back with the pork.
They were usually lucky to get a few slices of fish to eat on a Friday from an old man who knew Martha Barry’s husband from years back. His sons owned a boat and they usually dropped a pile of fish out to him every Thursday evening. Then he would walk down to the Guards’ Barracks and leave a nice package of fish for the Barry family. Stephen repaid him for it during the summer, when it came time to cut the turf and he and Paul would give him a few days’ work.
The cycle of neighbours helping neighbours was one that had gone on in Kilnagree for generations, and those – like the Barry family – that had little extra to give in the way of meat or foodstuffs always managed to return the favours with their labour on the farms or out on the bog.
“Thanks again for the lovely perfume,” Rose said, reaching across the table to put a large serving spoon in the centre for the vegetables.
Hannah made a little snorting noise and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “I’m sure it’s not as nice as the one you were wearing earlier,” she said, her voice slightly wounded. She halted, then a little glint came into her eye. “I noticed you didn’t have any perfume of your own the last time I was here and I saved up to buy it for you, thinking that it would be something special for you. But it seems I got that a bit wrong.”
Rose stopped what she was doing. “But I told you I loved the perfume, Hannah!”
Hannah looked at her, then turned to stare out of the window “But it’s not as special as it would have been before that strange woman gave you all those expensive things,” she said in a low voice.
Rose’s face darkened. “Where did you get the idea that she’s a strange woman? I never said that.”
Hannah gave a little shrug, then she glanced over at Rose’s grandmother to check that she wasn’t listening to their conversation. “Well, it seems a bit odd for somebody you hardly know to give you clothes and presents for no particular reason. In fact, it’s a bit of a cheek in a way, as if she’s suggesting that you haven’t got decent clothes of your own.”
“But it wasn’t like that!” Rose stated, feeling a real surge of anger. How dare Hannah say such an insulting thing? “It was because I helped her and she said she wanted to show that she was grateful!”
Hannah suddenly felt Martha Barry’s eyes piercing into her and she coloured up. She was very wary of the old lady, who she had discovered on one of her visits wasn’t quite as deaf or as short-sighted as people thought. As she proved now.
“Rose always looks decent,” Martha stated in a low, serious voice, “and Mrs Bentley told her that she was one of the finest-looking girls she’d seen in a long time, and that she gave her the good clothes because she knew they would look well on her.”
“Oh, she looks well in anything,” Hannah hastily agreed. She turned to Rose, her face beaming now. “You’ll have to show me the other things she gave you,” she said ingratiatingly. “The outfit you’re wearing now looks lovely on you. . . . I said that the minute I clapped eyes on you.”
Rose inclined her head slightly, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, then turned away from the table. She wasn’t fooled for a minute. She knew Hannah had meant every word she had said earlier and now, feeling awkward, was trying to wriggle out of it.
Then the outer door to the kitchen opened and Kathleen Barry came in followed by her two young daughters. “Look what the wind blew in!” she said, coming over to give Hannah a slightly self-conscious hug. “Did you have a good journey down?”
For Rose, the rest of the evening dragged and she found herself constantly checking her wrist-watch, wishing it was bed-time. It was drizzly and damp which put paid to any plans for a walk down to the harbour and Rose was grateful when Paul suggested they have a game of cards around the kitchen table. The whole family joined in, apart from Stephen who was still out at the farm and Martha who sat in her high wooden chair at the edge of the table, encouraging and helping Eileen and Veronica on their choice of cards and enjoying the general banter.
Just after nine o’clock Stephen Barry came back, his outer coat and cap drenched from the rain which had now got heavier. They took a break from cards while Kathleen made everyone tea and Hannah’s favourite supper of bread dipped in whipped-up egg and fried in the pan.
When the plates were being gathered up, Stephen looked at the kitchen clock and then at the two youngest. “It’s time the pair of ye were in bed,” he told them, “so go and get your Rosary beads now and we’ll say our few prayers.”
As she stood up to get her own beads, Rose noticed Paul’s eyes darting across to Hannah. Then he rolled his eyes to the ceiling. Rose glanced at Hannah in time to see her wink at Paul and then, as she was standing up on her tip-toes to reach her Rosary box on the top shelf of the white-painted dresser, she heard her cousin say in a soft but enthusiastic voice, “I’ll call the prayers tonight, Uncle Stephen – if it’s okay? I often call them out at home.”
“Good girl!” Stephen said. “It’s nice to hear a young one showing a bit of interest in their prayers. You’d be waiting a long time before that Paul fella would think to offer.”
“Ah sure, that’s not fair!” Paul protested, a lop-sided grin on his handsome face
“Fair or not,” his father said, raising his eyebrows, “it’s the truth.”
“I’ll go and get my beads from my case,” Hannah said, pushing her chair back. “I made sure to pack them when I was coming away. I never go anywhere without my Rosary beads.”
“And that’s the right way,” Stephen said.
Hannah went out into the hallway towards the bedroom with Paul hot on her heels and Rose could hear them laughing and giggling, knowing perfectly well that they were mocking her father because he had believed her little charade over the Rosary. She had seen that side of Hannah before and, while she was capable herself of complaining about her father, she felt annoyed that Hannah should rope the impressionable Paul into her subterfuge.
A few minutes later Hannah and Paul came back to join the others and the family knelt down.
Blessing himself with the cross on his Rosary beads, Stephen led off with the Apostles’ Creed and the other preliminary prayers, then he gave Hannah a nod to begin the first decade.
“Are the Joyful Mysteries okay?” she asked in a low voice.
“Whichever you like,” said Stephen.
Rose watched as Hannah closed her eyes and started: “The first Joyful Mystery – The Annunciation. Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with Thee . . .” And off she went in a calm, clear voice, the others chorusing the responses. She said the whole five decades of the Rosary with a serious, determined face and her eyes shut tightly against any distractions as her fingers slid from bead to bead.
Rose found herself confused as she had expected Hannah to give a giggle or at least a smirk. She wasn’t sure whether she had totally misjudged her cousin or whether she was a very clever actress whenever the occasion called for it.
After the Rosary, the night finished with all the adults playing a game of cards for pennies. As though sensing that Rose was annoyed with her, Hannah sat close beside her and was more serious and sensible.
“I forgot to tell you that I brought a knitting pattern for a nice cardigan down for your friend, Cathy,” she suddenly said. “I was telling her all about it the last time I was here and she said she’d love to borrow it.”
“Oh, that was good of you,” Rose said, slightly taken aback by the fact that her cousin had even remembered the conversation, because there were times when she only seemed to be half-listening to anything other girls had to say. “She’ll be delighted about that – Cathy is always knitting.”
“It’s that white, lace-patterned cardigan you might have seen me wearing before,” Hannah went on. “I have it in the case to wear while I’m here. The pattern looks complicated but it’s easy enough once you get the hang of it.”
Rose suddenly brightened up – the knitting pattern would give them an excuse to walk over to Cathy’s tomorrow afternoon. She had been feeling awkward about turning up at any of her friends’ houses with Hannah in tow.
“If it’s fine tomorrow afternoon we might take a walk down and drop the pattern off,” she said, her relief evident in her voice.
Chapter 10
The following afternoon the girls left the house to walk the half-mile down to the post office to post a letter for Martha and then to walk the two further miles out to Cathy Brennan’s house.
At first the conversation was slightly stilted but as they strolled along the path the atmosphere between the two cousins became more companionable and easy, Hannah stopping every now and again to shield her eyes against the weak sun and admire the lovely view.
She was wearing a blue and white blouse with a dark blue skirt, with the white lacy cardigan slung casually over her shoulders, while Rose was wearing another of Leonora Bentley’s outfits – a nice black blouse with pink flowers on it with a plain black skirt. She wore the outfit with her sturdy black sandals which were the best for walking and she carried an umbrella with a long cane handle.
Hannah had appeared for breakfast that morning in her flower-printed winceyette pyjamas with half a dozen pink rollers dotted over her hair.
“Oh, I didn’t wash it,” she explained to Rose and Martha when she saw them eyeing the rollers. “I only dampened it to give it a bit of a lift.” She looked at Rose. “You’re so lucky having straight hair that always hangs the same way whether it’s newly washed or a week old.” She rolled her eyes. “My hair can be a complete nightmare. If it gets wet it just goes completely limp and, when I’ve slept on it, it sticks out in all the wrong places.”
“Well, it always looks grand to me,” Rose told her.
Hannah’s eyes lit up with the compliment. “Ah, you’re very good saying that . . .” She smiled and touched the back of her hair. “Funnily enough, I never think my own hair is nice but a few people have told me that, when I curl it, it makes me look a bit like Marilyn Monroe.”
There was a silence which was suddenly broken when Martha Barry went into an unexplained fit of coughing.
Rose smiled to herself now, turning her head away from Hannah as they walked, remembering the expression on her grandmother’s face.
When they came up to Diana Tracey’s imposing white house which towered over the smaller houses and cottages, Rose was about to say, “This house belongs to the daughter of the lady who gave me the presents,” but she caught herself just in time. She and Hannah were getting on so much better today and she didn’t want to give her an opening to say something that just might annoy her. The way that Hannah had reacted to the clothes had made her feel self-conscious and touchy. Even though she had gushed about how gorgeous and beautiful they were and how well they suited her, Rose got the feeling that Hannah looked down on her for having someone else’s clothes. Her grandmother had said that Hannah was only jealous as the clothes were more expensive and flattering than anything she had herself, but Rose wasn’t so sure. She just knew that she would feel more relaxed and happier wearing them when her cousin had gone back to Offaly and she no longer had to feel that she was scrutinising every item that she wore.
Rose then thought back to the day that Leonora Bentley had given her the lovely things and remembered how the older woman had told her that she had worn second-hand clothes herself. She had said it without the slightest embarrassment. Rose wished she had that confidence. She suddenly had the feeling that if she spent a lot of time in the company of people like Mrs Bentley and her daughter she would probably end up not caring what Hannah, or anyone else, thought of her.
Rose knew she was unlikely to see much more of the Dublin woman but she decided that she would try to adopt her attitude and in future would do her best to shrug off Hannah’s remarks.
Two seagulls fighting over a dead crab suddenly caught Hannah’s attention and then they were past Traceys’ house, saving Rose the need to comment or give Hannah any information about it.
They left the path and went the short distance down to the shore to walk barefoot on the rocks and pebbles. Rose warmed more towards her cousin as Hannah exclaimed with delight at the rock pools, the shells and lacy scraps of pink and purple seaweed.
“You are so lucky living in such a beautiful place,” Hannah said, as the two girls sat down on a large rock to put their sandals back onto their damp feet. They sat for a few moments, their legs dangling over the rock, staring out over the wavy water.
Rose lifted her gaze to check the sky. “On a fine day I love walking down here more than anything else in the world.”
Hannah suddenly became serious and gave a dramatic sigh. “Oh, I’d love to live here! Walking along the strand, watching the waves and the seagulls, somehow seems to make all your problems seem a long way off.”
Rose turned towards her and was surprised to see a bleak, despairing look on Hannah’s face. She paused for a moment, wondering what on earth could be wrong. She felt she should say something but she wasn’t quite sure what it should be.
“I wouldn’t have thought you have too many problems, Hannah,” she said lightly.
“Nobody ever does,” the blonde-haired girl said, her voice tight and croaky. “And according to my mother, me being me is the biggest problem of all.”
Rose’s brow furrowed. She’d never heard her cousin talking like this before. Hannah was usually bright and bubbly and brimming with confidence.
“Your mother always seems very nice to me,” she said quietly. It wasn’t quite true because there had been occasions when she had noticed that Sheila Martin could be a bit snappy and intense, but on the whole her aunt seemed no more unreasonable than the next person.
Hannah pursed her pink lips together. “If you were a fly on the wall in our house at times you would have a very different opinion.”
“Ah, sure all families have their ups and downs!” Rose said, trying to err on the side of caution.
There was another pause this time – a longer one – then Hannah suddenly shook her head and laughed. “Ah, sure, you’re right! I must sound like a real old moan.”
“I think we’d better make a move anyway,” Rose said, looking up at the greying sky. “If we don’t head off we might end up soaked through because there’s little or no shelter on the way out to Brennans’.”
Hannah made a praying gesture with her hands and looked up at the sky. “Please God don’t make it rain! I don’t want my hair looking a mess for the dance tonight!”
* * *
God must have heard Hannah’s prayer as the rain held off and it was still dry and bright two hours later as they started their return journey, Hannah carrying a bag with eight scones in it that Cathy had given them and Rose swinging her long-handled umbrella. In fact, the weather forecast looked to be spot-on as the sky had cleared and the sun was starting to come through.
The visit had been a great success and Cathy had been delighted with the cardigan pattern, though Rose noticed that she still behaved in a slightly reserved manner towards Hannah.
“Cathy’s a very nice girl when you get to know her, isn’t she?” said Hannah suddenly.
“Yes, she is. She’s been my best friend since we were at school.”
“You’re lucky. I’ve quite a few friends at home in Tullamore but I wouldn’t say I was closer to one than another. And they’re not reliable at letting you know when there’s a dance on or anything like that. They’ve often let me down when we’d planned to go to the pictures.”
“That’s not very good, is it?” Rose mused, not quite sure what to say.
“That’s why I like coming down here. The girls are a lot friendlier and – don’t get me wrong – they might be a bit plainer than the girls I went to school with but they’re more decent and dependable. I felt really relaxed with Cathy, as if I’d known her for years.”
Rose took a deep breath, amazed that Hannah hadn’t caught onto her friend’s coolness with her. She obviously thought that they liked her and considered her a real friend. Was it possible that she didn’t know the difference between a good friend and somebody she barely knew?
“I’ve brought a couple of magazines in my case,” Hannah suddenly remembered, “and I’m sure there are patterns in them as well – I must cut them out for her.”
“Oh, she’d be delighted,” said Rose, trying to conceal her surprise.
They were just rounding the bend again that would take them back to Tracey’s house and then on to Slattery’s pub when Hannah announced that she’d love to have another barefoot walk on the seashore. Rose checked her small Timex wristwatch, wondering if they should hurry home for the dinner, but it was only half past four and the dinner wouldn’t be ready until her father came in at six.
It was a Friday so it would be fish tonight. Occasionally, if Martha’s old friend had no fish to spare – and Stephen hadn’t had a decent week’s work to allow them to buy any – they made do with fried eggs, potatoes and onions for the day of abstinence.
Although their meals were very basic and repetitive and they had very few luxuries, Stephen and Kathleen Barry’s family never went hungry. One way or another they had always got by.
“Give me the scones and your sandals,” said Rose. “I’ll carry them for you so you can have a walk down at the shore. I’ll keep up with you on the path.”
“Oh, thanks, Rose!” Hannah said, handing the bag to her and slipping off her shoes.
In a few moments Hannah was far enough away for them to have to call to each other over the noise of the sea. Rose slowly ambled along, occasionally waving to Hannah but most of the time enjoying the peace and quiet.
