Brooklyn (13 page)

Eilis noticed how pleased with herself Miss McAdam seemed. As she watched the older woman sipping her tea, it occurred to Eilis that this could easily be her revenge on Eilis and Mrs. Kehoe over the room. On the other hand, she reckoned, it could be true. Mrs. Kehoe could have used her, the only lodger who did not seem to know why Miss Keegan had left. But then she thought that Mrs. Kehoe could not have been sure in the days before she moved her to the basement that Eilis would not find out. The more she watched Miss McAdam, the more she was convinced that if she was not inventing the story of the man who exposed himself, then she was exaggerating it. She wondered if Miss McAdam had been encouraged to do this by the other lodgers or if she were doing it alone.

“It’s a lovely room,” Eilis said.

“Lovely it may be,” Miss McAdam replied. “And you know we all wanted that room when Miss Keegan got it, all the better to stop that Kehoe woman snooping around you every time you came in the door. But I wouldn’t want to be down there now with the light on for all to see. Maybe I shouldn’t say any more.”

“Say what you like.”

“Well, for someone who walks home alone at night, you seem very calm.”

“If anyone exposes himself to me, you’ll be the first to know.”

“If I am still here,” Miss McAdam said. “It might be Long Island for us all.”

In the days that followed, Eilis could not make her mind up about what Miss McAdam had told her. At meals in the kitchen with the rest of the lodgers she veered from believing that all of
them had conspired to frighten her in revenge for her being installed in Miss Keegan’s room to believing that Mrs. Kehoe had placed her there not because she favoured her but because she thought she was the least likely to protest. She studied their faces as they addressed her, but nothing became clear. She wanted to allow for the possibility that everyone’s motives were good, but it was unlikely, she thought, unlikely that Mrs. Kehoe had genuinely given her the room out of pure generosity and unlikely also that Miss McAdam and the others really did not mind this and had merely wanted to warn her about the man who had followed Miss Keegan so that she would be careful. She wished she had a real friend among the lodgers whom she could consult. And she wondered then if she herself were the problem, reading malice into motives when there was none intended. If she woke in the night, or found time going slowly at work, she went over it all again, blaming Mrs. Kehoe one moment, Miss McAdam and her fellow lodgers the next, and then blaming herself, eventually coming to no conclusion except that it would be best if she stopped thinking about it altogether.

The following Sunday, Father Flood announced that the parish hall was now ready to run dances to raise funds for charities in the parish, that he had procured Pat Sullivan’s Harp and Shamrock Orchestra and that he would ask the parishioners to spread the word that the first dance would be held on the last Friday of January and then every Friday night after that until further notice.

When Mrs. Kehoe came briefly into the kitchen that evening, having left her poker session, and sat at the table, the lodgers were discussing the dance.

“I hope Father Flood knows what he’s doing,” Mrs. Kehoe said. “They ran a dance in that selfsame parish hall after the war
and they had to close it because of immorality. Some of the Italians started to come looking for Irish girls.”

“Well, I don’t see what’s wrong with that,” Diana said. “My father is Italian and I think he met my mother at a dance.”

“I’m sure he is very nice,” Mrs. Kehoe said, “but after the war some of the Italians were very forward.”

“They’re lovely-looking,” Patty said.

“Be that as it may,” Mrs. Kehoe said, “and I’m sure some of them are lovely and all, but from what I heard great care should be taken with many of them. But that’s enough about Italians. It might be better for us all if we changed the subject.”

“I hope there’s not going to be Irish dancing,” Patty said.

“Pat Sullivan’s band are lovely,” Sheila Heffernan said. “They can do everything from Irish tunes to waltzes and foxtrots and American tunes.”

“That’s good for them,” Patty said, “as long as I can sit it out for the céilí stuff. God, it should be abolished. In this day and age!”

“If you’re not lucky,” Miss McAdam said, “you’ll be sitting down all night, unless of course it’s ladies’ choice.”

“That’s enough about the dance,” Mrs. Kehoe said. “I shouldn’t have come into the kitchen at all. Just be careful. That’s all I have to say. You have your whole life ahead of you.”

Over the next while, as the night of the dance approached, the house broke into two factions: the first, which consisted of Patty and Diana, wanted Eilis to come with them to a restaurant where they would meet other people going to the dance, but the others—Miss McAdam and Sheila Heffernan—insisted that the restaurant in question was really a saloon bar and that the people who would gather there often were not sober or indeed decent. They wanted Eilis to go with them directly from Mrs. Kehoe’s house to the parish hall only as a way of supporting a good cause and to leave as early as was polite.

“One of the things I don’t miss about Ireland is the cattle mart on a Friday and Saturday night, and I’d be happy to stay single rather than have half-drunk fellows with terrible hair oil pushing me around.”

“Where I’m from,” Miss McAdam said, “we didn’t go out at all and none of us were any the worse for it.”

“And how did you meet fellows?” Diana asked.

“Will you look at her?” Patty interjected. “She’s never met a fellow in her life.”

“Well, when I do,” Miss McAdam said, “it will not be in a saloon bar.”

In the end Eilis waited at home with Miss McAdam and Sheila Heffernan and they did not set out for the parish hall until after ten o’clock. She noticed that both of them were carrying high-heeled shoes in their bags that they would change into once they arrived. Both, she saw, had backcombed their hair and were wearing make-up and lipstick. When she saw them first she was afraid that she herself would look dowdy beside them; she felt uncomfortable at spending the rest of the evening, no matter how short their stay in the parish hall, in their company. They seemed to have made so much effort, whereas she had merely tidied herself and put on the only good dress that she owned and a brand-new pair of nylon stockings. She decided, as they walked to the hall through the freezing night, that she would look carefully at what other women were wearing at the dance and make sure the next time that she did not look too plain.

As they approached she felt nothing but dread and wished she could have found an excuse to stay at home. Patty and Diana had laughed so much before they left, running up and down the stairs, forcing the others to admire them as they travelled from floor to floor of the house, even knocking on Mrs. Kehoe’s door before they finally departed so that she could see them. Eilis was glad she had not gone with them, but now, in the strange tense
silence that developed between Miss McAdam and Sheila Heffernan as they entered the hall, she felt their nervousness and was sorry for them and sorry too that she would have to stay with them for the evening and leave when they wanted to.

The hall was almost empty; once they had paid they went to the ladies’ cloakroom, where Miss McAdam and Sheila Heffernan checked themselves in the mirrors and applied more make-up and lipstick, offering Eilis lipstick and mascara as well. As all three looked in the mirror, Eilis realized that her hair looked terrible. Even if she were never to go to a dance again, she thought, she would have to do something about it. Her dress, which Rose had helped her to buy, also looked terrible. Since she had some money saved, she thought that she should buy some new clothes, but she knew that she would never easily be able to do so alone and that her two companions would be as little use to her as Patty and Diana. The first pair were too formal and stiff in their attire and the second too modern and loud. She determined that once her exams were over in May she would spend time looking at stores and prices and trying to work out what sort of American clothes would suit her best.

When they walked out into the hall and across the bare boards to sit on benches on the opposite side, passing a number of middle-aged couples waltzing to the music, they saw Father Flood, who came and shook hands with them.

“We’re expecting a crowd,” he said. “But they never come when you want them.”

“Oh, we know where they are,” Miss McAdam said. “Getting Dutch courage.”

“Ah, well, it’s Friday night, I suppose.”

“I hope they won’t be drunk,” Miss McAdam said.

“Oh, we have good men on the door. And we hope it will be a good night.”

“If you opened a bar you’d make a fortune,” Sheila Heffernan said.

“Don’t think I haven’t thought of it,” Father Flood replied and rubbed his hands together, laughing as he moved away from them, crossing the dance floor towards the main entrance.

Eilis looked at the musicians. There was a man with an accordion who seemed very sad and wistful as he played the slow waltz and a younger man playing the drums and an older man at the back with a double bass. She noticed some brass instruments on stage and a microphone set up for a singer, so she presumed that when the hall filled there would be more musicians.

Sheila Heffernan fetched a lemon soda for each of them and they quietly sipped their drinks and sat on the bench as the hall filled up. There was still no sign, however, of Patty and Diana and their group.

“They probably found a better dance somewhere else,” Sheila said.

“It would be too much to expect for them to support their own parish,” Miss McAdam added.

“And I heard that some dances on the Manhattan side of the bridge can be very dangerous,” Sheila Heffernan said.

“You know, the sooner this is over and I am at home in my own warm bed the happier I’ll be,” Miss McAdam said.

At first Eilis did not see Patty and Diana but spotted instead a crowd of young people who had come noisily into the hall. A few of the men were dressed in brightly coloured suits with their hair slicked back with oil. One or two were remarkably good-looking, like film stars. Eilis could imagine what they would think of her and her two companions as the new arrivals took in the hall, their gaze shiny, excited, brilliant, full of expectation. And then she saw Diana and Patty among them, both looking radiant, everything about them perfect including their warm smiles.

Eilis would have given anything now to have been with them, dressed like them, to be glamorous herself, too easily distracted by the jokes and smiles of those around her to watch anyone with the
same breath-filled intensity as she was watching them. She was afraid to turn to check on Miss McAdam and Sheila Heffernan; she knew that they might share her feelings, but she was aware also how hard they would try to suggest that they deeply disapproved of the new arrivals. She could not bear to look at her two fellow lodgers, afraid that she would see something of her own gawking unease in their faces, her own sense of being unable to look as though she were enjoying herself.

Once the music changed, no more Irish tunes were performed. The accordion player began to play slow tunes on the saxophone, tunes that most of the dancers seemed to recognize. By now, the hall was full. The dancers moved slowly, and they appeared to Eilis, in how they responded to the music, more elegant than the dancers at home. As the rhythms grew slower, she was surprised at how close some of them danced; some of the women seemed almost wrapped around their partners. She saw Diana and Patty move with confidence and skill and noticed that Diana shut her eyes as she came close to her fellow lodgers, as though she meant to concentrate better on the music and the tall man with whom she was dancing and the pleasure she was taking in the night. Once she had passed, Miss McAdam said she thought it was time for them to go.

As they made their way across the hall to get their coats, Eilis wished they had waited until the set was over so that they might not be seen making such an early departure. As they walked home silently, she did not know how she felt. The tunes the band had played were so soft and beautiful. The way the couples who danced were dressed was to her eyes so fashionable and so right. She knew that it was something she would never be able to do.

“That Diana should be ashamed of herself,” Miss McAdam said. “God only knows what time she’ll come in at.”

“Is that her boyfriend?” Eilis asked.

“Who knows?” Sheila Heffernan said. “She has a different one for every day of the week and two on Sundays.”

“He looks lovely,” Eilis said. “He was a great dancer.”

Neither of her companions replied. Miss McAdam quickened her pace and forced the other two to follow. Eilis was pleased at what she had said even though it was clear that she had annoyed them. She wondered if she could think of something stronger to say so that they might not ask her to accompany them to the dance the following week. Instead, she determined that she would buy something, even just new shoes, which would make her feel more like the girls she had seen dancing. She thought for a moment that she would ask Patty and Diana for advice about clothes and make-up but reasoned that that might be going too far. As Miss McAdam and Sheila Heffernan barely said goodnight to her when they reached home, she decided that, no matter what, she would never go to a dance with them again.

At work on Monday, Miss Fortini was waiting for her. Eilis thought at first that she had done something wrong, as Miss Fortini asked her and Miss Delano, one of the other sales assistants, to follow her to Miss Bartocci’s office. When they entered the room, Miss Bartocci seemed grave as she signalled to them to sit down opposite her.

“There is going to be a big change in the store,” she said, “because there is a change going on outside the store. Coloured people are moving into Brooklyn, more and more of them.”

As she looked at all of them, Eilis could not tell whether they viewed this as a good thing for business or a piece of ominous news.

“We’re going to welcome coloured women into our store as shoppers. And we’re starting with nylon stockings. This is going to be the first store on this street to sell Red Fox stockings at cheap prices and soon we’re going to add Sepia and Coffee.”