Rose of Tralee (36 page)

‘Oh, yes, me too,’ Rose said. ‘As soon as I’ve finished me cocoa I’ll foller you, Mam.’ The two older women got up and began fussing with the kettle and under cover of their conversation Rose smiled at Colm over the rim of her mug. ‘Thanks for teachin’ me to ride, Colm,’ she whispered. ‘I’m goin’ to tek me cocoa to bed wi’ me. See you in the mornin’.’

*

Once in bed, Rose lay in the dark, warm as toast despite not having made herself a hot-water bottle, and smiled and smiled. Fancy, after all her heart-searchings and the way she’d felt when she realised that Mona and Tommy were a bit interested in one another, and all the time it was Colm! Of course he had muddied the waters by appearing to be interested in Mona himself – well, he
had
been, Rose told herself with ruthless honesty – but now that they had realised . . . she could not imagine enjoying anyone’s company more than Colm’s. And his kisses . . . her warm cheeks grew warmer at the thought . . . surely nothing could have exceeded the sweetness of them! He was going to buy a bicycle so that they might go out on trips together. He had not said that, exactly, but he had made it clear enough. She still liked Tommy, of course she did – he was a tram man, wasn’t he? – but it was, she realised now, just the normal friendliness a girl might feel for a handsome young man.

In the next bed, Mona gave a gurgling snore and brought Rose’s mind round to her cousin and Tommy. Mona liked Tommy, she could tell, and she rather thought he liked her. So where did Mr Garnett fit into the picture? Because, though Rose might not be as knowing as her cousin, she was no simpleton, either. She knew that Mr Garnett had shown no interest in his poor old parrot until he had bumped into Rose at the dance – and consequently, had met Mona. Now he came round to the house ... but so far as she knew, he had not invited Mona to go out with him. Queer! He was not slow in coming forward where girls were concerned, so the typists at work said, and his shipmate Mr Simpson had implied as much as well. And Mr Garnett had a car, which Mona
would certainly like. She was sure – well, almost sure – that Mona would take up with Mr Garnett even if she liked Tommy ever so, because Mr Garnett would be a person of importance one day and Tommy, though he was handsome and very nice indeed, would surely not seem a better ‘catch’ than Mr Garnett.

For Mona had made no secret of the fact that she intended to marry someone who could keep her in the style to which she wished to become accustomed. When Rose said that this seemed a bit cold, slightly heartless, she had said, tartly, that it was all very well for Rose, with her mother and the boarding-house behind her. ‘I’ve only got meself to rely on,’ she had said. ‘And I don’t want to have to scrape and scrat all me life. It isn’t even as if I’d gorra decent job, wi’ prospects, like you’ve got, our Rose. So if I get the chance to better meself by marriage I’ll do it, even if he’s old an’ ugly.’

‘You never would, chuck,’ Rose had gasped, filled with repugnance at the thought of having to marry an ugly old man. ‘Oh Mona, nothing would be worth that.’

‘It would, because if he was old enough he’d die quite quick an’ leave me a rich widder,’ Mona had said, and laughed. Rose had joined in the laughter, but the conversation had made her uneasy. Was that why Mona never went out with Tommy alone? Was she waiting for Mr Garnett to declare himself? And would he? Rose quite liked Mr Garnett, who could be a laugh when he wanted and sometimes came into the typing pool and chatted very pleasantly. But there was no getting away from it, he was built like a clothes prop and his face was long and knobbly. His lank, pale-brown hair always looked as if it needed a
brush, and his skin was sallow and pimply around the chin and hairline.

But Rose was becoming gloriously warm and comfortable, and she could feel sleep stealing up on her. I hope I have nice dreams, she told herself, snuggling down. What she meant was she hoped she would dream of Colm, but even to herself that seemed rather too bold, so she just closed her eyes, ignored Mona’s snuffles and grunts, and willed herself to sleep. I’ll see him at breakfast, she thought, and a pleasant tingle ran through her. Her last thought, before sleep claimed her, was to wonder whether, in his turn, Colm might dream of Rose Ryder.

Mona, having tired of watching the bicycle-riding lesson, had come indoors when Tommy had left to go down to the pub for a couple of beers. He had suggested she might go as well, but Mona had declined; her aunt, she knew, would not approve of a female going into the bar, though a visit to the Jug and Bottle was of course quite permissible. But she declined wistfully. She would have much enjoyed a visit to the pub with Tommy – indeed, she would have liked to go with him anywhere. However, she had herself well in hand. Tommy was fun, but she doubted that he was steady husband material. Better to enjoy his company when she could do so without anyone raising their eyebrows, and at other times steer clear. For Mona had decided that if she wanted a decent future, she must become the sort of girl that Rose was and forget that she had ever been – well, flighty. Flirting with Colm, who was so good-looking, was fun, but she did not intend to wreck her future for an Irish navvy. Besides, she was well aware that with her looks she could easily make a very good
marriage, and that would mean no more toiling at the flower shop and no more helping out in the house, either. The sort of future, in fact, that girls dream about. She might not marry Mr Garnett, there were better fish in the sea, she told herself, but if she got involved with Tommy God knew what would become of her.

So instead of going down to the pub with Tommy she had spent a quiet hour or two chatting to her aunt and Mrs Kibble, whilst she embroidered cream-coloured roses on a fine white silk underslip which she meant to give her cousin for a Christmas present. She was a good needlewoman and enjoyed the work, but had gone up to bed some time before Rose and Colm came in, since she had worked late tonight and would be in late tomorrow, too, because of the date she had made earlier that day. She had been drowsing when Rose came in, but had woken some while later, to find her cousin comfortably asleep and had then, annoyingly, been unable to return to her earlier slumbers.

Wakefulness, she suspected, however, had come to her because she was elated and excited by what had happened to her earlier in the day – and God knew she had worked as hard as she knew how to make it come about. She had spotted that Mr Garnett was the sort of feller she needed the first time they’d met, at the Daulby Hall, but of course it wasn’t her part to make a move. Infuriatingly, a girl couldn’t approach a feller and suggest a date – not unless she wanted to be thought a right little wanton, anyway – but there were ways. A couple of times during Mr Garnett’s visits to the house she had mentioned casually that she now worked in a florist’s shop in the Exchange Station arcade and after watching for two whole days
– and being told off by Miss Ellis for absent-mindedness – she had decided that despite Mr Garnett’s car, money and position, he was none too bright, and had not taken any of her hints. Irritably, she had begun to plot once more how to manage to meet him outside the house in the Vale, but before she could put any of these plans into action, it became unnecessary.

Just when she had given him up, while she had been in the back room surrounded by flowers and making up wedding bouquets, he had marched boldly into the shop, asking the price of the chrysanthemums which stood in deep green buckets, scenting the air with autumn.

Miss Ellis, the manageress, had served him. He had chosen the most expensive blooms, buying gold, bronze and dark-red chrysanthemums and told her to wrap them in fancy paper and all, since, he said, mysteriously, they were a present.

Hovering in the background and listening with all her ears, Mona’s heart had nose-dived – a present? Did this mean he had a young lady and had merely come into the shop by a strange coincidence? But then he had turned, with the bouquet in his arms, and begun to try to pick up the parcels which he had stood down on the floor whilst he chose the flowers. Clasping them all, he had looked round rather helplessly. ‘I say, I wonder if someone could give me a hand out to the car? I couldn’t bring it into the arcade, of course, so it’s a dozen or so yards down Tithebarn Street, a five-minute walk away. Only otherwise I’ll be bound to drop something and, with my luck, it’ll be the flowers. They’re for my mother, and she’s most awfully fussy ... Could you ... ?’

Mona knew Miss Ellis and decided that Mr Garnett
wasn’t as stupid as he seemed. The manageress was far too high and mighty to stagger out into the roadway with an armful of parcels . . . and what was more, with only the two of them in the shop, she wouldn’t be likely to leave Mona by the unguarded till. Not that I’d dream of takin’ owt that weren’t mine, Mona told herself, stepping forward at Miss Ellis’s gesture. I’m far too keen to keep me job – for the moment, at any rate.

‘Miss Mullins ... ah, there you are! Would you carry the bouquet out to the gentleman’s car please? And come straight back, of course.’

‘With pleasure, Miss Ellis,’ Mona said, in the refined voice she kept for the flower shop. ‘Ay shan’t be more than a few minutes, Ay’m sure.’

She took the flowers and went out to the arcade ahead of Mr Garnett, only turning once to enquire which was his vehicle – not that she needed to ask. It was a blue sports model, very dashing, the only expensive car in sight.

‘It’s the blue one,’ he had replied and had over-taken her to unlock the passenger door so that he might begin to pile his parcels in the space behind the two front seats. ‘I say, Miss Mullins, fancy me choosing the shop you work in! What a bit of luck, eh? I’ve been hoping to meet you alone, some time.’

‘Alone?’ Mona said, giving him a coy glance beneath her lashes and glancing round the crowded street. ‘This ain’t exactly a quiet spot, Mr Garnett.’

‘No, but ... I mean without y-your cousin and aunt and so on. I wondered . . . what time do you finish work this evening?’

‘Not till eight or even later; it’s the run-up to Christmas, you see, an’ we’ve a load o’ wreaths an’ such to make,’ Mona said gloomily. ‘I’m doin’ a
weddin’ now . . . but tomorrer, now . . . I’ll be off be six tomorrer.’

‘Ah! Well, how would you like to come to the theatre with me? Or for a run in the car? It’s new ... I wouldn’t mind taking her for a spin, we could eat first . . . there are several good places near here . . . what d’you say?’

‘We-ell,’ Mona murmured. ‘I dunno . . . you’re me cousin’s boss ...’

‘I know what you mean, but we needn’t tell anyone, need we?’ he said, turning and taking the bouquet out of her arms. ‘Tell you what, I’ll keep mum if you will. You can say you’re working late again, making more wreaths.’ He gave her what he no doubt imagined was a suggestive smile and patted her head rather as if she were a large and possibly dangerous dog, Mona thought. ‘Well, what d’you think?’

‘It would be lovely, Mr Garnett,’ Mona said quickly, before he could change his mind. ‘It would be real nice to go out with . . . with a young gentleman.’

He raised thin brows. ‘Oh? Don’t try to tell me you’re not in the habit of going out with chaps, Miss Mullins, for that I won’t believe! You’re far too pretty to stay at home alone, night after night.’

‘I used to go out a bit,’ Mona said, looking soulful. ‘But now I’m livin’ wi’ me aunt an’ me cousin, she likes us to go around together. I’m awful fond of our Rosie, but there’s times when I’d enjoy a bit more freedom. She’s ever so sweet, but only a kid, you know.’

‘Very well, then. Mum’s the word, hey? And I’ll meet you . . . let’s see, shall we say outside that newsagent’s? And would five past six suit?’

‘Yes, it would be grand,’ Mona said, handing him
the bouquet. ‘Tomorrer night, at five past six then, Mr Garnett. I’ll look forward to it.’

‘And you can call me Garnett; they only use the “mister” in the office because we’re all Evans and it would be a bit confusing otherwise, eh, what?’ He laughed, then walked round the car and opened the driver’s door. ‘Until tomorrow evening then, Miss Mullins.’

So now, Mona began to make her plans. She had her eye on Tommy, as a sort of back-stop, so he mustn’t find out that she was seeing Mr Garnett, and she dared not let Rose or Aunt Lily know. They wouldn’t like it. She did not quite know why, but she knew that disapproval would follow an announcement that she was going out with Rose’s boss. Never mind, though. If it got serious, if it looked as though Mr Garnett was going to pop the question, then she could always move out, or brazen it out, whichever seemed the better. And what was more, if she said she had a feller, sort of introduced him slowly, then it was just possible that Rose and Aunt Lily would not only approve, but would see, as clearly as Mona did herself, that she was doing the right, the sensible thing.

Though there was no denying he was a plain feller. His long, thin face was miserable-looking, and he had long, thin hands too – damp hands. Mona had always disliked damp hands. And then there were the pimples; folk said fellers grew out of pimples but that Garnett must be in his mid-twenties and his chin and brow were fair pitted with the things. And he had that voice so many of his type had ... the sort of voice, Mona thought, that Miss Ellis and she both tried to imitate when they were serving important customers. Well, imitating it was all very well, but to have to use it always ... and to have it sounding in your ears from
across the breakfast table – heavens, from the next pillow – would be a trial, to put it no stronger. I wonder if I can stand listenin’ to it, Mona thought crossly, let alone do it meself always, not just on special occasions.

But she comforted herself with the thought that she needn’t try to talk posh herself, not when she was out with Garnett. It wasn’t like work, when you needed to impress people. Mr Garnett wasn’t interested in her accent, he was interested in her – well, in her body. And personality an’ brains an’ that, Mona reminded herself hurriedly. Once she’d got him there’d be no need to crack her jaw trying to sound like someone she wasn’t.

In the other bed, Rose gave a muffled snort and turned over. If I don’t give over worryin’ an’ get to sleep soon, it’ll be mornin’ an’ I’ll be no manner o’ use in the shop, Mona reminded herself despairingly. So I better stop thinkin’ about that long streak of misery and concentrate on his sports car, his handmade shoes an’ the money he brings home each week. Wasn’t it just like fate, now, that Tommy was good-looking, fun, amusing . . . and a bleedin’ tram driver, whilst the other . . .