Rose of Tralee (38 page)

But finally she had decided that if Colm bought her a present she would produce his and if he did not she would wait until they were alone and hand hers over anyway. After careful thought, she had spent her money on a blue muffler which, she told herself, would keep him warm – and smart – all through the winter.

So now she chose a piece of bright wrapping paper and began to fold the muffler up in it, using blue ribbon to fasten the rather bulky parcel. Tomorrow, she thought joyfully as she put the wrapped parcel in her dressing-table drawer and turned her attention to the next present, tomorrow Mr O’Neill would go off for his Irish Christmas – and Mona would move into his room until he came back once more. Rose was naturally an early riser, Mona liked to lie in until the last minute and though Rose tried to tiptoe round as silently as she could she knew she usually woke Mona long before her cousin wished to greet the light of day. And Rose herself would have liked a lie-in sometimes on a Sunday morning, but if they both got up late then one of them would be hanging around waiting to use the washstand, and secretly cursing the other for her tardiness. So Rose got up early and washed first, then Mona, groaning, would drag
herself out of bed and splash water around, whilst Rose brushed her hair, put on the clothes she had selected, ironed and hung up the night before, and gave her shoes a rub with the cloth she kept especially for that purpose in the pocket of her pink-and-white-checked overall.

The two girls got on well enough, but sometimes Rose missed the quiet of her own little room and felt that the two of them, dressing to go out of an evening, were always on top of one another, elbows banging, heads together to share the mirror at the last moment before rushing downstairs. Rose loved and admired many things about Mona, but knew she would enjoy Christmas all the more for the additional privacy which Mr O’Neill’s absence would give them.

Just lately, she and Mona, though they got up and dressed at roughly the same time each weekday morning, seldom went to bed at the same hour. Rose had been out with Colm several times, but they were usually home by eleven o’clock at the latest – often earlier. Mona, however, had taken to coming in well after midnight, though Rose had to admit that her cousin crept into the room and undressed so quietly that she, Rose, never woke.

But it meant, of course, that Mona got into bed still fully made-up and had to do her hair by guess in the dark. Rose had naturally curly hair – which she hated, because curly hair was not fashionable – but Mona tied her hair up in rags each night. Not into curls, it was true, but into the smooth, swooping style which she favoured. The result was that Rose felt guilty because, although she tried, she simply could not stay awake until her cousin came in, and while she apologised fervently and begged Mona to put the light on and bustle about all she liked, Mona would
not. ‘Don’t worry, Rosie, I’m gettin’ a dab hand at undressin’ in the dark an’ puttin’ me hair into rags by touch,’ she had said consolingly, when Rose talked to her about it. ‘As for not washin’ before I gerrin to bed, what does it matter? I wash in the mornin’, don’t I?’

But mornings were always a rush, and Rose knew that the cat’s lick and promise which Mona gave herself when she had the use of the washstand, before re-applying her make-up, was not the sort of scrub, from top to toe, which she should have had.

But at least from tomorrow we’ll be in our own rooms for a couple of weeks and we’ll have all the time in the world in the mornings, she told herself now, finishing off the packing of her last parcel and heading for the stairs once more. Only because it’s Christmas, I dare say we’ll both be going to bed pretty late. Isn’t that just how things always work out, though? But at least we’ll have a basin and jug each instead of sharing the one, and whoever wants a lie-in can have it without being disturbed by the other.

Having finished her parcels, she glanced thoughtfully about the room. She must hide the presents – particularly Mona’s – because her cousin must not spoil the surprise by seeing what she had bought her before Christmas Day, but where to put them was a puzzle.

In the end, she put them right at the very back of her underwear drawer and crossed her fingers that Mona’s curiosity would not lead her to snoop. She did not think it would, but she knew that if Mona needed clean knickers and did not have a pair to hand, she would borrow a pair of Rose’s though she would always ask, of course. But sometimes she doesn’t wait for me to answer, Rose reminded herself.
Still, the parcels are at the back – and I can tell Mona they’re there and warn her not to look. I’m sure she won’t if she knows.

Downstairs in the kitchen her mother was still cooking and, when Rose appeared, smiled rather wearily and pointed to a clean pink china plate upon which reposed a number of mince pies. ‘Help yourself to any o’ them,’ she said. ‘I’m onto sausage rolls now – how I hate the dratted things! All that rolypolying ... why can’t they be an easier shape, eh?’

Rose laughed and took a mince pie. ‘Oh Mam, you’re daft,’ she said, biting into the rich, crumbly pastry. ‘How about if I finish the sausage rolls then, while you make us both a mug of cocoa?’

‘Bless you, Rosie,’ Lily said gratefully, laying down her rolling pin and going over to the sink to wash her hands. ‘A change is as good as a rest, they say. And I reckon another dozen will see us through the festive season. Where’s your cousin gone tonight, then? Out wi’ Tommy?’

‘Dunno,’ Rose said briefly, curling her pastry round the sausage meat and cutting it off, then brushing the two long sides with water and sticking them firmly together. ‘She worked late, that I do know, but what she’s doing after that I’m not sure about. She likes Tommy, doesn’t she, Mam?’

‘So do we all,’ her mother said, then took the big black kettle from the fire and began to fill it at the sink, raising her voice to combat the gush of the water. ‘We’re a happy little crowd, ain’t we, queen? We’re awful lucky, you know. Not everyone who takes in lodgers gets along like we do. And as for Mona liking Tommy, I’d say they was just friends. Still an’ all, it’s best to be friends, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Yes, sure,’ Rose said absently. She chopped the
two-foot sausage roll she had made into four-inch pieces and began to place them on the greased baking tray her mother had prepared. ‘Ah, there’s someone comin’ through the yard. If it’s Mona, she’s early for once.’

But when the back door opened presently it proved to be Colm and his father, rosy-faced from the cold and sniffing the warm cooking smell appreciatively.

‘That’s a grand smell, so it is,’ Mr O’Neill said, eyeing the mince pies. ‘Don’t they look beautiful, sittin’ there on that plate just waitin’ to be et? Only I suppose they’re for Christmas,’ he added mournfully. ‘And there’s me an’ Colm wit’ our bellies flappin’ against our backbones an’ all our money spent on Christmas presents.’

‘Oh get along wi’ you, Mr O’Neill,’ Lily Ryder said, laughing. ‘Them mince pies is a bit of a supper for us all – an’ there’ll be some sausage rolls too, only you’ll ha’ to leave ’em to cool. Hot sausage meat can scar a feller for life.’

‘I’ll chance it,’ Sean O’Neill said, taking off his coat and hanging it on one of the hooks on the back door. ‘And wouldn’t you know it, now, young Rosie’s got the lead on us, Colm, she’s gobblin’ one already. Come on, let’s show these Ryders what an O’Neill can do in the way of appreciatin’ good food.’

The theatre trip had been exciting and enjoyable, despite Garnett trying to cuddle her for most of the performance and Mona, who wanted to concentrate on the play, having to be quite nimble at times, but now, sitting beside Garnett in his car as he drove her – he said – to a special and excellent restaurant, she began to feel the first stirrings of disquiet. Would they end up at a hotel with a meal – and a room – prebooked?
God knew, Mona pondered, several times she had thought him keen as mustard, but he had always drawn back at the last moment. In a way this suited her, he was so long and thin and miserable-looking and so incredibly inept and clumsy – he usually managed to tread on her toes at least once every dance and to shut her coat in the car door, or to leave one of his own gloves at the cinema, dance-hall or theatre they had been frequenting – but she told herself that if –
if
– he tried to take liberties she really should let him go at least a bit further. She was doing her best to prove to him that she was a decent girl, the sort of girl who wouldn’t allow ’that kind of thing’, yet she also had subtly to encourage him or he might simply lose interest and move on to some other, easier girlfriend.

So she had not stopped him kissing and caressing, within reason that was, and usually he would draw the car to a halt in some quiet spot and begin to cuddle, always stopping, however, when she made it plain that he must do so or earn her considerable displeasure. Yet, so far, he had not suggested that their friendship might go further, had not taken that final step into intimacy, and Mona guessed that Garnett somehow knew that she would want more than a few expensive outings before she would even consider giving him her all.

In fact, she had made no secret of her rules, if rules you could call them. Kissing was all right, cuddling was fine, too, so long as too many liberties were not taken, but the ultimate prize was being saved, she told him righteously, for a real commitment. An engagement ring and a promise of wedded bliss had to be at least in view.

Of course she had not put it quite so bluntly as that,
but Garnett was no fool and had clearly realised what she meant, and the moment she gave her ’desist’ sign – a kick in the shins or a french burn of the wrist proving a common language a good deal plainer than a ’that’s enough!’ had proved to be – he stopped whatever he was doing and returned to the straight and narrow.

Mona’s difficulty came because she had a shrewd suspicion that Garnett would want at least to sample the goods before he bought, to put it plainly. However, she was none too sure of how far he needed to go before deciding whether he wanted to burn his boats and settle for an engagement at the very least. And she did not intend to agree to a word-of-mouth engagement sealed by some trumpery piece of jewellery, either. A solitaire diamond ring with the stone the size of a sixpenny joe would, if the marriage did not actually come off, prove a consolation, she thought.

So if he had booked a hotel bedroom, what should she do? If she went upstairs with him, she realised shrewdly, she could scarcely act the injured innocent when he started to make the obvious moves. But if she refused ... oh Lor’, would she lose him altogether? He was her best chance so far of a good marriage, and the fact was, the more she got to know him the more she liked him. Despite what she believed Aunt Lily thought, she had only ever made love to one man during her time treading the pavements outside Lime Street station, and that was because she had honestly believed she had found herself a proper husband at last. They might have married, too, had not her mother made mischief. No, Mona had always played fair, at least by her standards. Right from the start she had known what
she wanted and made it clear to any man who approached her that she was just a companion, a dancing partner, someone to be seen around with, and would never hop into bed on a mere acquaintanceship.

She had very little trouble, either, because she froze the wrong sort off with a threat to call the scuffers if they pestered her again, an’ what sort o’ a gal did they think she was, then? And even then she had had a shrewd eye for the right sort and had allowed them a little more licence. But she could scarcely pretend she didn’t know Garnett, after three weeks or so of constant outings and treats. He had bought her pretty things – a silk scarf, a gold charm bracelet and some charms to hang on it – and there was no denying his generosity in other ways too. Always the best seats at the theatre, the most delicious chocolates, the grandest and most expensive meals in restaurants which she had not known existed – at least, not from personal experience.

The trouble was, she was no longer as single-minded as she had once been and that was because of Tommy Frost. She really liked him; his wonderfully neat and experienced dancing meant that she danced wonderfully too, when in his arms. His gaiety was a tonic and it never mattered what she said to him – she had to watch her tongue with Garnett – because he was her own kind. And his kissing simply set her on fire, made her long to throw her rules to the wind and let him go on ... except that he never did. He seemed to know by some instinct what was the right moment to stop. It’s my misfortune, Mona thought miserably now, that he stops just when I least want him to, when I’m all on fire for more.

He understood her meetings with Garnett, too.
Without a word of reproach he hung around the house or sat in his window until he saw her come in, then he would steal down to the kitchen in his socks and they would make their cocoa and get out the biscuit tin and talk and talk. Tommy intended to make his fortune in some unspecified fashion before he was thirty and they discussed the sort of car he would drive, the house he would buy and the way all his old colleagues on the trams would envy him. Then, when the time came for them to go to their own rooms, he always gave her a kiss and a cuddle, though he never overstepped the mark. He did take her out occasionally, but so far as that went he couldn’t compete with Garnett Evans, though she found him pleasanter and easier company.

Me and Tommy, we’re two of a kind, she reminded herself now, as the car’s headlights lit up the white country road. We’re both determined to make our fortunes – oh, how I wish we could make them together!

‘You’re very quiet, Mona, my dear.’

She had been thinking about Tommy so ardently that the sound of Garnett’s voice came as a real shock; she jumped, then laughed rather breathlessly and turned to face him. ‘Sorry, Garnett, I were a thousand miles away. Where are we goin’? You didn’t say it were way out from the city – you don’t mean to make me lose me beauty sleep, I hope?’ The coquettishness of her tone was enlivened by a little genuine worry – had she sounded cheap?

But if so, Garnett did not appear to mind. ‘We’re going along the coast, my dear, to an excellent restaurant where I’ve booked us a corner table in a quiet spot by the log fire – you’ll love it. As for missing your beauty sleep, don’t fret your pretty little
head. I’ll see you get home in good time – don’t I always?’