Finishing Touches (16 page)

‘We’ll always be friends,’ Cassie comforted the troubled young man at her side. She cared too deeply for him to end their relationship on a note of reproach. He looked terribly
relieved and held her close and she knew deep in her heart that Donie Kiely would come out of Maynooth a priest.

He
did
become a priest but for the rest of her life, he was one of her staunchest friends, a pillar of strength in her life.

If only he had waited at least until she was settled in Dublin, life would have been much simpler. But with Donie in Maynooth, and Nora in the frame of mind she was in, Cassie’s dream of a
career in architecture was shattered. Unwilling to upset her mother, she stayed in Port Mahon and began a secretarial course that left her screaming with boredom and frustration.

‘You’ll have to practise, I’m afraid, Miss O’Shaughnessy,’ Cassie heard Sister Madeline tell Aileen. She too had been told to practise closing a
door while keeping her eyes firmly on the interviewers. They were now going to practise seating themselves gracefully in their chairs while still facing their interviewers. This was all a result of
the visit to Saint Imelda’s by a deportment and etiquette teacher, Miss Vera Wrigley, who went to schools all around the country giving advice to girls. They learnt how to ‘start from
the outside in’ when faced with a bewildering array of cutlery at a formal luncheon or dinner. They learnt how to press their peas against their forks rather than spearing them and having
them pop into their partner’s lap and cause embarrassment all round. They were advised on grooming and warned not to have too heavy a hand with their make-up.

‘You don’t want to look as if you’ve put it on with a trowel,’ Miss Wrigley recommended, ‘and, besides, young men prefer a more natural look.’ She showed them
how to walk properly. ‘Shoulders up. Head straight. Abdominal muscles tucked in with arms swinging loosely by the side and fingers loosely bent.’ They spent an hour and a half marching
around the yard in single file, practising their deportment and feeling like prats. And all the time Cassie and Aileen were stuck in Saint Imelda’s Commercial College for Young Ladies, Laura
was up in Dublin as free as a bird, leading a wonderful life on campus. Cassie and Aileen were going mad with envy.

They might as well be still at school, Cassie reflected dolefully as the bell went for the end of class and they prepared to go to the typing-room. True, they were called ‘Miss’ and
they had a common-room where they could smoke if they wished. But bells still went, homework had to be done, and life was altogether unexciting. Even having a smoke didn’t give the same
satisfaction as the illicit smoking parties in the boarders’ bathroom used to give. The thrill was gone out of it when you were allowed to do it.

The interviews for the banks were coming up, hence the practice and preparation for interviews. Cassie and Aileen had already sent in application forms for the position of clerical officer in
both Dublin Corporation and Dublin County Council. In the meantime they were learning to type and do shorthand and book-keeping and accounts. Aileen and book-keeping did not see eye to eye. She
could not get the hang of debit the receiver and credit the giver, much to Sister James’s exasperation.

Sister James was almost six foot tall. Skinny and angular, with a beaky nose and a sharp tongue, she was one of the most self-righteous, self-important, puffed-up busybodies it had ever been
their misfortune to meet. The entire class loathed Sister James. Mother Perpetua was a darling in comparison. In particular, Aileen and Sister James could not stand each other. From their first
encounter, when Aileen’s début accounting exercise did not balance, it had been all-out war. Aileen was at a disadvantage because she was not mathematically inclined, a disadvantage
that the gawky nun exploited to the full. Still, Aileen was well able for her and the rest of the class eagerly looked forward to their spats. Today they would have Sister James for last class
after their typing and then they were free for the weekend.

Clacking away on her manual typewriter, Cassie tried to concentrate. It was almost the middle of October but they were having an Indian summer and there was still great heat in the sun, which
was blazing in through the windows and making her feel extremely lethargic. It reminded her of the Fridays when she was still at school and longing for the weekend to start. She stifled a sigh.
That was the problem – this college was like school, not a real college. If things had gone according to plan, she should have been up in Bolton Street, studying architecture. Instead she was
stuck at a typewriter in Saint Imelda’s with the likelihood of being stuck in Port Mahon for the rest of her life. This was a thought that filled her with dismay. It was quite obvious that
even if she
did
get a job in Dublin, Nora would expect her to commute daily. To do otherwise would be seen as a betrayal of the family.

It was a problem that taxed Cassie’s brain many a night. Was she being selfish in wanting to go and share a flat with the girls in Dublin? Was Nora right to expect her to stay at home? Was
that where her duty lay? For all Nora would see of her, she might as well be living in Dublin anyway. After all, it would be almost seven by the time the train rolled into Port Mahon station. If
she decided to go out for a few hours, she wouldn’t be home before twelve, and then she’d be going to bed. The next morning she’d leave the house before eight to get to work on
time. She might as well not be there.

Aileen was in the same boat. Her mother had been widowed some years before and there were just the two girls, Aileen and Judy. Mrs O’Shaughnessy was not happy about her elder
daughter’s future plans. For years, Aileen had had to tell her mother the most outrageous fibs in order to be able to lead any kind of a life. It wasn’t that she wanted to be telling
fibs, she moaned to the girls, and she genuinely meant it. But if she didn’t, she would never have been allowed to do anything, and would have had no life at all. It was a matter of
self-preservation!

Laura had observed her mother’s life as a skivvy to her father and decided years before that she was having none of it. She had hardened herself so that when the time came, she had been
able to leave home with not an ounce of guilt or regret. As she said to Cassie and Aileen, her mother had made her bed and was lying on it, unwilling to make any changes in her life. No woman had
to put up with what Anne Quinn put up with unless she wanted to.

‘Don’t be emotionally blackmailed!’ Laura had advised her two friends. ‘It’s not fair. You’re not children any longer. You’re adults and you’ve
got to take responsibility for your own lives, just as your mothers have got to take responsibility for theirs. It doesn’t mean you’re going to be any less supportive or that you
won’t be there when they need you. And don’t ever think it. Don’t dare feel one bit guilty!’ Laura was very firm about it and Cassie envied her for the way she could reason
things out and make decisions that were not clouded by feelings of guilt or responsibility.

She knew Laura was right and she could see that it wasn’t she who was being selfish, but her mother. And yet . . . and yet . . . Nora
was
her mother and how could she leave her in
the lurch so soon after Jack’s death? But she’d have to do it some time and so would Aileen, and the longer they left it, the harder it would be. Sighing, she continued typing for the
umpteenth time, ‘The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.’

‘I’m really looking forward to going up to see Laura tomorrow. Aren’t you?’ Aileen said cheerfully as they sat waiting for Sister James to arrive for their last class.
‘I’m dying to see UCD.’

‘Me too,’ said Cassie. ‘It sounds so exciting. All the blokes she’s meeting and all the parties she’s going to. She’s having a ball. I don’t know how
she gets any studying done. What with her part-time jobs and all.’

‘There’s one thing about Laura. She knows what she wants and she goes for it. She’ll get her degree without any problem.’ The arrival of Sister James cut short any
further conversation and they began to study the intricacies of the petty-cash book. All went well for a while and then Aileen was asked a question. Aileen, who had been mentally rehearsing the
part of Mrs Pearse, which she was playing in the Port Mahon Dramatic Society’s production of
My Fair Lady
, was taken completely by surprise.

‘You haven’t a notion, have you? You’re wasting your time here. And you’ve a nerve even to consider applying for the bank, Miss O’Shaughnessy!’ Sister James
was working herself up into a very satisfying rage. She had a loose lower lip and prominent teeth and when she lost her temper or spoke quickly the person opposite her was quite liable to be
sprayed.

Aileen had just about enough of Sister James. Glaring at the nun and wiping her cheek, she retorted coldly, ‘Kindly say it . . . don’t spray it.’ Just then the bell went.
Gathering her books, she marched from the classroom, leaving Sister James red-faced and speechless. The rest of the class hid their grins, delighted that the unpopular nun had finally got her
comeuppance. Only Aileen would have the nerve to do it! Sister James was so flustered she completely forgot to give the girls any homework.

‘I feel much better after that, I can tell you,’ Aileen confided, as she and Cassie walked along the main street on their way home. Cassie laughed.

‘You really got her where it hurts. She was flabbergasted.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t normally pass remarks like that but she was just so smart, she was asking for it. For someone with her posh accent who is always telling us how well-bred she is,
she’s mighty rude,’ Aileen sniffed.

‘Don’t know where she got that accent from. My Aunt Elsie knows her family and they came from Kerry. They moved up to Dublin years ago. But she’s from Kerry all the
same.’ Cassie was feeling slightly peckish. ‘Come on, let’s go into Tum Tums for a bite to eat,’ she said to Aileen, who needed no second urging. Tum Tums had recently
opened in Port Mahon and did a roaring trade. The home-made soups were the talk of the town. Although it was only four-thirty in the afternoon the place was almost full. Friday was market-day in
Port Mahon and the main street was a hive of activity.

Aileen and Cassie managed to secure a window-seat and sat back in their pine chairs, perusing the menu.

‘I think I’ll have the Chicken Kiev,’ Cassie decided.

‘And I’ll have the lasagne, please,’ Aileen told the waitress. ‘And a pot of tea for two.’

‘It’s nice to treat ourselves now and again, isn’t it?’ Cassie declared, knowing that Nora would go mad if she saw them. Her mother had a dinner prepared at home. Well,
she just wasn’t in the mood for smoked cod today and that was that.

‘It’s the perfect way to start off the weekend,’ Aileen agreed. ‘Tomorrow is going to be a great day. And we deserve it.’ She pointed to the up-market boutique
across the street. ‘I see Vogue has a sale on. I wonder if there is anything nice there.’

‘Nothing you or I could afford, so forget it,’ Cassie said firmly. Aileen could get carried away quite easily where clothes were concerned. Vogue was way out of their league. All the
rich farmers’ wives and the wealthy women of Skerries and Balbriggan and the rest of north County Dublin came to Vogue to shop. They watched a trio of glamorous women emerge from the
boutique, carrying the distinctive black-and-gold bags with Vogue blazoned on them. ‘We’ll be like them some day,’ she said to her friend.

‘That’s if we ever get out of Port Mahon,’ Aileen replied glumly. ‘Well, Mother will just have to get used to the idea that I’m not going to be tied to her
apronstrings for ever. Really, Cassie, she’s very demanding. My dad died years ago and Mother still hasn’t learnt to stand on her own two feet. For God’s sake, don’t let
your mother get too dependent. For her own good as well as yours.’ Aileen was uncharacteristically serious. Cassie knew she and her sister, Judy, had a hard enough time with Angela
O’Shaughnessy, who tended towards the neurotic.

‘Don’t worry, Aileen, Mam will get back to herself and you and I will get up to Dublin one of these fine days. Our time will come,’ Cassie said with more confidence than she
felt. It wasn’t that she hated home or Port Mahon. In fact there were times when she loved where she lived, particularly in the summer and autumn. Port Mahon was a thriving little town and
there was plenty to do there, but Cassie knew it was time to spread her wings. She felt terribly restless. A whole new world beckoned, if only she could make the break.

‘Oh look!’ Aileen pointed. ‘Hit-and-Run strikes again! Isn’t he obnoxious?’ Looking out the bay window, Cassie could see the town’s traffic warden poised for
action. Nicknamed Hit-and-Run by one of the town wits, his
modus operandi
was perfectly described by his nickname. A timid little man, fearful of confrontation, he would stand in the
shelter of a shop doorway while taking details of his intended target. Once the ticket was written he nipped out, placed it behind the wiper and was gone. As there were double yellow lines on both
sides of the main street he had a busy time. Market-day was a particularly nerve-wracking day for him and right now he looked totally harassed.

Cassie and Aileen sat enjoying their meal, watching the to-ing and fro-ing along the street, commenting on this one and that one and quite enjoying themselves. Before they left Tum Tums, they
had discussed almost all the inhabitants of Port Mahon.

An hour later, full to the gills, Cassie sat at the dining-table at home gazing unenthusiastically at the steaming plate in front of her.

‘I hope that’s not dried up, Cassie, love,’ Nora fussed. ‘I didn’t know you’d be late.’

‘It’s fine, Mam. It looks delicious,’ her daughter fibbed. Barbara was over at Judy’s house. John was out the back chopping wood, and Martin and Irene were watching
TV.

‘Cassie, I was just wondering,’ Nora began diffidently. ‘Well, I was thinking of going to an ICA meeting tonight. You don’t think it’s too soon, do you?’ The
question was music to Cassie’s ears. Her mother hadn’t been to her ladies’ club meeting since Jack died. It was a good sign that she was thinking of going. It meant that she was
starting to get back to her old self.