City Girl (19 page)

Maggie, however, had no desire to be a heroine. She didn’t want Sister ‘Never Got It,’ the nickname given by the incorrigible Worley to Sister Mairead, to catch her smoking. If
her father found out she’d be killed, and Sister Mairead would be the first one to tattle-tale if she caught Maggie at it. Hence the caution as she made sure the loos were vacant. Closing the
door of the cubicle behind her, she hopped up, a foot on each rim of the toilet, and lit up. Ooh the joy of it! Silently she exhaled a long thin stream of smoke, waving her arms to dissipate it.
She had just begun to take another long drag when she thought she heard a muffled cough. Surprise caused the smoke to go the wrong way and she began to splutter. She had been so sure there had been
no-one else in the loos. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she coughed and choked and gasped and wheezed and in her distress lost her balance and one leg plunged into the wet ceramic depths of the
toilet bowl. A wail of dismay echoed through the dim dark-green-tiled den of iniquity.

‘Jesus Mary and Joseph! What are you doin’ in there?’ A vaguely familiar voice asked, as a blond head poked over the top of the cubicle. Maggie, extricating herself from the
toilet, looked up to find Marian Gilhooley, a girl in her new class, peering down at her.

‘How did you get in without me hearing you?’ Maggie demanded.

‘I was already in here standing on the loo,’ grinned the other girl, taking a pull out of her own cigarette. ‘I thought you were friggin “Never Got It.” I nearly
died, Maggie!’ Catching sight of Maggie’s very wet shoe and sock Marian said matter-of-factly, ‘You’d better borrow a pair of my shoes and socks or you’ll be in
trouble. Come on.’

Marian was a boarder, Maggie was not, and it was with a great sense of adventure that she followed her new friend up to the mysterious dorm, which was well and truly out of bounds to the day
pupils.

And so a friendship was born. Marian, who lived in Cork, but whose mother had gone to school at the convent and wanted her daughter to do the same, became the sister Maggie never had. At
weekends Marian would get a special pass from the nuns to stay at Maggie’s home and in time she became as much a daughter to Maggie’s parents as Maggie was herself. She would breeze in
the door, throw her arms around Maggie’s mother and say, ‘Hi folks! Anyone for tea?’ every Friday evening, except for the rare occasion that she went home.

When Marian went to the local hospital to have her tonsils removed it was Maggie’s parents who were at her bedside when she woke up and they had visited every day, bringing chocolates and
fruit and magazines.

‘Your parents are too good to me,’ Marian told Maggie.

‘Sure they love you as much as they love me,’ Maggie laughed. Her brothers, too, had taken to Marian’s lively outgoing personality and after a while Maggie couldn’t
remember what life had been like without Marian.

They went through school together in a whirlwind of giggling adventures, each shared experience binding the knot of friendship tighter. Maggie had gone to visit Marian’s home in Cork and
found her family to be a warm close-knit one and her mother particularly nice. It was as though she had known them all her life, and she felt immediately at home. It was to Maggie that Marian
confided her troubles and dreams, and vice versa and people in the village got used to seeing the pair of them together.

‘Where’s your other half?’ Ma Clancy the postmistress would say if ever Maggie went into the post office alone. And that’s exactly what Marian was, Maggie’s other
half. Marian had been most enthusiastic about Maggie’s romance with Joe Conway but she had understood more than anybody why the independent-minded Maggie had not wanted to settle down to
marry. While everyone else reacted with shocked dismay to Maggie’s refusal to wed, Marian was staunchly supportive and urged Maggie to stick to her plan to go nursing. All too soon their
girlhood was over but before they finally stepped on the road to careers and maturity, Marian to study for a degree at UCD and Maggie to nurse, they decided to treat themselves to a holiday
abroad.

They left school in June and arranged for a holiday in August, hoping for a cancellation. Maggie couldn’t wait. Although Marian was back home and working for the summer in Cork, and she
was in Wicklow working on the farm with her father, they phoned each other and wrote regularly. Marian had got herself a new boyfriend, and she bubbled enthusiastically about him to Maggie, who
understood perfectly: after all, hadn’t she been the same when she first met Joe.

Then a slight disaster had befallen Maggie: she broke her leg and was encased in plaster and hobbling around on crutches. Marian had arrived up on a weekend visit and to Maggie’s surprise
seemed somewhat agitated. Eventually she said, the words coming tumbling out, ‘Maggie, would you mind very much if we didn’t go away on holidays? I . . . I don’t think it would be
such a good idea with your broken leg. We wouldn’t be able to go dancing and things and it would be a bit of a waste of money, wouldn’t it?’

Stunned was the only word to describe how Maggie felt, but on reflection she conceded that Marian was right. It would be a bit of a waste and there would be other times. They decided to travel
around the west coast of Ireland for a few days instead just before they both came to Dublin to study.

Marian went back to Cork, having made plans with Maggie for their touring holiday. They would go immediately after Maggie’s parents’ twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Marian had been
the first to be invited and would be seated at the family table. Maggie was looking forward to it immensely. All the preparations were underway; the local hotel had been booked and there was going
to be a great hooley.

Several weeks later, during one of their phone calls, Marian casually mentioned that her boyfriend had asked her to go away with him for a few days. Coincidentally it was to bè the week
that she and Marian would have been going abroad. ‘But of course we’ll have our own holiday later in the year.’

For a moment Maggie couldn’t help but wonder whether the plans to go on holiday with the boyfriend had materialized before or after the breakup of their own holiday plans. Instantly the
thought was banished. Marian was her best friend, a person of the utmost integrity. She would never be so underhand as to drop Maggie like a hot potato just because a boyfriend had asked her to go
holidaying with him. A friend would never do a thing like that . . .

The summer flew by, the invitations were sent out for the anniversary party and Maggie began to look forward to the forthcoming holiday. She badly needed a break and a few days of fun with
Marian was just what she wanted. Maggie rang her friend to finalize the plans as they were to leave the day after her parents’ party. Marian seemed surprised to hear from her.

‘I’ve booked a place for us to stay.’ Maggie always did the booking when they went anywhere.

‘Oh . . . oh!’ Marian sounded rather confused. ‘For when?’ she asked.

‘Immediately after the party, of course,’ Maggie laughed. ‘I’ve sent a deposit.’ Honestly, Marian could be so scattered sometimes.

‘Oh, you didn’t get my letter then?’ Marian said, trying to sound casual.

‘No, not yet,’ Maggie replied gaily. It was great to hear Marian again. Roll on the holliers.

They chatted for a few moments before Marian, always mindful of the phone charges, laughingly said goodbye. ‘I can’t wait for the party and the holiday,’ Maggie informed her
mother who was ironing a pile of shirts in the big friendly kitchen of the farmhouse.

Nelsie McNamara smiled. ‘Knowing you pair you’ll enjoy yourselves. I’m really looking forward to seeing Marian at the party. You’d miss her around the place.’

‘You sure would,’ Maggie agreed giving her mother a little hug. The following day Marian’s letter arrived, chatty and lighthearted in her friend’s usual flippant style.
Maggie laughed aloud several times as she read it, until she got to the last page where Marian told her that she might be going abroad with her sister and that consequently she would have to cut
her holiday with Maggie short. ‘I know you won’t like this, but it’s got to be said, so here goes . . .’ she had written.

Maggie re-read the letter. She couldn’t believe her eyes. But it was there in black and white. Quietly excusing herself from the breakfast table, she went up to her room.

It wasn’t that she minded Marian having her foreign holiday. She didn’t. But that was the second time that year that her friend had messed up her holiday plans and she didn’t
even have the gumption to say it straight to her on the phone. That was the thing that hurt the most. Then Maggie realized that, although Marian might not have been aware of it, she was always
making and breaking plans. Like the time Mrs Gilhooley had driven up from Cork to Dublin and had called to visit Marian at school. Marian had assured her that she would bring her mother out to tea
at the farm and so Maggie had helped her own mother bake tarts and scones and the like. The whole afternoon they had waited and no sign of the pair. The next day Marian told her airily that they
hadn’t had time to fit in the visit.

Then there was the time some of the gang they went around with decided to hire a mobile in Brittas Bay for a few days. Five of them were going. At the last minute Marian asked was it OK for her
to bring along her current boyfriend.

‘I’d like you all to meet him,’ she told her friends. Maggie was a bit dismayed. If that was the case she could have asked Joe, and Annie Mary could have asked Tom and Julie
and Michelle could have asked their boyfriends.

Annie Mary had been most annoyed when Maggie told her of Marian’s request. ‘For cryin’ out loud, isn’t that just typical. Everything has to be done to suit Gilhooley.
What the hell does she want to bring him for? She’s only going with him a wet week. He doesn’t even know any of us and besides isn’t the whole idea to get away from them for a
while? Could you imagine the face of Tom if I asked him to come on a holiday with a gang of girls? She just loves to have people running around after her.’ The others had been equally
unimpressed with the idea. But Maggie had calmed them down, and told them not to cause a row. And so, the boyfriend had been invited, and Marian once again had things done her way.

It was a streak in her friend that Maggie was able to overlook because she loved her. After all, no-one was perfect. But this latest episode was just taking things a little bit too far. She
grimly took out her notepad, sat down at her desk and wrote her friend a letter. It was a very frank letter in which she pointed out that she was not a doormat for Marian to wipe her feet upon when
it suited her. She pointed out that twice that year Maggie had made plans for holidays with her and then broken them. As far as Maggie was concerned, that was not the way friends behaved towards
each other, especially not best friends. Friendship meant respect. Friends had responsibilities towards each other. Marian had treated Maggie with neither. She signed and sealed her letter. As far
as she was now concerned the matter had been dealt with, she had made her point and all she wanted to do was to forget about it. At least Marian would be there for the party and they could talk
about it.

Three days later her mother received a regret card from Marian saying that she would not be attending the party. There was no other message, no reason given and no letter for Maggie. Nelsie was
stunned but not half as stunned as Maggie, who couldn’t believe that Marian could treat her mother in such a rude and hurtful fashion after all the kindness Nelsie had shown her. She might as
well have slapped her mother in the face.

Maggie gave her friend a week, then after hearing nothing from her, she rang Cork. Marian wasn’t in but her sister assured her that she would give Marian the message and get her to ring
back. The call never came.

Maggie could not understand it. Hurt, bitterness, anger, sadness. Maggie didn’t know what she felt. But that was that, she swore. She would never contact Marian again. Pride kept her going
for a week. She didn’t deserve friends, that Marian Gilhooley. What a bitch!

Maggie couldn’t sustain the anger. It wasn’t in her nature to hold a grudge. Whenever she thought about it, all she could remember were the great times they’d had. The laughs!
The secrets they had shared. How could Marian throw away long years of friendship without a thought? It was something Maggie couldn’t, wouldn’t do.

Again she phoned Marian. They’d get over this belch in their friendship. They’d had a few hiccups before and no doubt they would again. That’s what relationships were all
about. As the phone rang, Maggie felt a great relief flood through her. Soon everything would be all right between herself and her best friend. Impatiently she waited for the phone to be answered.
Marian herself answered.

‘Hi, it’s me,’ Maggie said evenly.

‘Oh . . . hello!’ Her friend’s voice was cold and Maggie’s heart sank. God! couldn’t she make any effort?

‘Why haven’t you written or phoned?’ Maggie asked quietly.

Then, in tones of frosty indifference that came clearly across the airwaves, Maggie heard Marian say, ‘I didn’t think there was any point!’

After all they had experienced together, Marian ‘didn’t think there was any point!’

Maggie was so shocked that she didn’t know what to say. She was silent for a moment and then she said in disbelief, ‘If I hadn’t got in contact with you, would you never have
got in contact with me?’

‘No!’ came the devastatingly cold reply.

Maggie nearly fell out of the phone box. She had phoned from the village to ensure maximum privacy. She remembered thinking, I don’t believe this, it must be a bad dream. Friends
don’t behave like that. But it was no dream; her last fifty pence had been swallowed up by the phone and the pips were going. Regaining her composure, she said to her best friend, ‘If
that’s what you want then Marian, take care of yourself.’

There had been no anger in her voice; she was not going to end their friendship in anger. Let Marian do that, it wasn’t Maggie’s way. She could look back with her head held high on
the friendship they had shared. She had nothing to apologize for; it had been she who had made a move towards reconciliation and been rejected. There was no shame in that. The pips ended. The line
went dead.