Rose of Tralee (41 page)

She had crossed the backyard and opened the door, still smiling. She realised that she felt free for the first time since she had met Garnett. Now she would be able to tell Tommy that the affair was over and the two of them could spend time together openly.

Tommy hadn’t been in the kitchen when she entered, but had come in as soon as the rest of the family had gone to bed. They had sat companionably in one chair, herself mostly in Tommy’s lap, whilst she told him, with much amusement, the story of her evening. They had laughed together, but then he had astonished her by saying thoughtfully that she might do worse, at that.

‘Worse? Wharrever meks you say that?’ she had asked, round-eyed. ‘Oh, it ‘ud be awright for
him
, that I do see, but wharrabout
me?
I’d be cookin’ me own meals an’ doin’ me own housework as well as havin’ to purrup wi’ that great leggy crittur pawin’ all over me mornin’, noon an’ night.’

‘Oh aye, but he couldn’t be there all the time,’ Tommy had said. ‘An’ when he wasn’t, you an’ me could have the love-nest all to ourselves. No doubt he’d be sure to tell you when he planned to come round, so’s you could clear out any girlfriends you might have visitin’, an’ cook him a meal an’ so on. You want to think hard before you turn down a free flat, queen.’

Mona had stared at him, speechless. He could not mean what he was saying; he must be joking. She took a deep breath and launched into speech. ‘I don’t believe me
ears
, Tommy Frost! The feller ain’t suggestin’ we live in tally, oh no, nothin’ so wicked. He’s suggestin’ I move into this flat an’ sit there like a dummy, waitin’ for him. When I’m not workin’, that is. Why, if I wanted that sort o’ life I could ha’ had it years since – fellers like me an’ make suggestions. But I moved in wi’ Aunt Lily because I could see that if I wanted a decent life wi’ a proper marriage, kids, a nice house, then I’d not only gorra seem respectable, I’d gorra
be
respectable. Who’d marry me after I’d
been at Garnett’s beck an’ call for a year or so, eh? An’ where’s the advantage to
me
? I’m losin’ me good reputation just so’s Garnett can have his way wi’ me whenever he’s got nowt better to do.’

‘Who’d marry you? Me, for starters. Oh Mona, when your eyes sparkle like that I can’t resist givin’ you a kiss.’

He kissed the side of her neck but Mona pulled herself crossly away from him. ‘Well, I dare say that’s an advantage for me, seen from where you’re lookin’. But from where I’m standin’ it’s all gain to Garnett an’ nowt to me. Why, I’d have to buy me own food, do me own cookin’... I’d be a sight worse off in every way.’

‘Oh aye, I see what you mean, but he’d pay your way . . . wouldn’t he? I mean you’d run up bills, household ones, and you’d buy clothes an’ that, or tek yourself off for a day at the seaside, perhaps. You’d tell him what the score was and he’d pay . . . an’ if he didn’t you could persuade him to do so. After all, if he don’t want his parents to hear what he’s up to ...’

‘That’s blackmail,’ Mona said. She was beginning to tremble and the heat was rising up her neck and flooding her face. She knew she looked like a bleeding beetroot and could have slapped her companion. ‘How long would I last if I started in on that little game? Honest to God, Tommy, you’re mekin’ me feel quite ill. I didn’t expect you, of all people, to approve of what Garnett’s tryin’ on.’

‘I don’t, not really. I ... I was just testin’ you,’ Tommy had said and had given her a squeeze. ‘I want you all to meself, that’s my trouble. An’ if you didn’t live wi’ your aunt I thought it ... it might be easier to see you alone.’

‘Hmmm,’ Mona had said, not entirely convinced. ‘Well, I’m for bed. What wi’ you argufyin’ that there’s nowt wrong wi’ Garnett’s cunnin’ little plan, an’ him a-pawin’ at me I feel downright wore out. Goodnight, Mr Frost.’

‘Oh, Mr Frost, is it? Very cool, very cool indeed,’ Tommy had said, pulling a face at her. ‘I reckon you’re right an’ I’m wrong, but I were only puttin’ the other point of view. An’ when I think o’ the advantages of sharin’ a roof, like we do, only a mad feller would want to change things.’

‘I believe you; thousands wouldn’t,’ Mona said coolly, going over to the door. ‘I’m in the bathroom first an’ so you can mek a couple o’ mugs o’ cocoa whiles I’m washin’. You can knock on the bathroom door when you come up – if I’m not out, that is.’

Later, he had done so and she had taken her cocoa into Mr O’Neill’s lovely room, hers for the duration of his time in Dublin, and sat up in bed for a little, to drink it and muse on what had been said that evening. And now she was comfortable and about to drop off to sleep, secure in the knowledge that she would be able to please herself about what time she got up in the morning.

When she heard footsteps in the hall outside, very soft footsteps indeed, she thought that someone was making their way to the WC, because they had all had a pleasant time, which had probably included several drinks. Then she heard the sound of her door, opening very, very softly, and told herself it was Rose, coming to have a crack and to ask her what sort of an evening she had had. But when the footsteps came quietly on across the floor and stopped beside her bed she knew, really, what she had suspected all along. It was Tommy, here,
she hoped, to apologise for the things he had said earlier.

Colm and Rose had agreed that they would spend Boxing Day morning getting their thank you letters out of the way, because that was how they had spent Boxing Day morning ever since they had been able to write. It was not, however, an onerous task for either of them, since most of their presents had come from folk who could be thanked personally. Even so, Rose had received from an elderly neighbour a pair of blue woollen mittens and from one of her many aunts, now living away from the city, a calendar with a snow scene of robins on a holly log. Rose had half-expected that her Aunt Daisy would at least send Mona something, but not even a card had arrived from her.

Colm, of course, had more letters to do – one to Caitlin, thanking her for a shiny pair of bicycle clips, ‘for to keep your trouser ends out o’ the way o’ the chain, when you’ve got a bicycle,’ she had written on the label. Eileen O’Neill had sensibly dispatched a handsome shirt with two stiff collars, which she advised him to wear for best, and a pair of navy blue trousers which, she said, she had got ‘very reasonable’ last year in the Switzer’s sale. And Sean had given his son two tickets to the pantomime at the Playhouse theatre and had very kindly added some money for other treats.

There was another good reason for writing their thank you letters this morning. Each had bought the other, without being aware of it, a handsome and expensive fountain pen. They had opened them in unison and had been both delighted and touched by the thought and tickled pink, as Lily put it, by the coincidence.

‘Well, you’re always writin’ to your sister an’ your mam,’ Rose said self-consciously. ‘D’you like the writin’ paper an’ envelopes Mam got you?’

‘Everything’s lovely, so it is,’ Colm said. ‘I know you use a pencil for your shorthand at work, but you did say, once, that you wished you had a fountain pen, an’ didn’t have to keep dip, dip, dipping when you was doin’ exams.’

So now they settled down in the front room with the window table between them, and scratched away.

‘What did you send your aunt? An’ the neighbour?’ Colm asked presently, blotting a page and putting it to one side. ‘They’re probably writin’ to you at this very minute. I know Cait will be bendin’ over her page, splutterin’ away wit’ her old school pen. An’ likely me mammy too, because dinner’s always cold on Boxin’ Day.’

‘I sent me aunt a box of dates an’ some hair-grips,’ Rose said. She loves dates and hair-grips are always useful. An’ I sent Mrs Wilson Turkish Delight – one of them round boxes, it were hell to parcel up – an’ the diary Eleanor at work give me – because I got two, you know.’

‘They’ll be writin’ too,’ Colm said, nodding. ‘I love to get letters, so I do, an’ the day after we’ll be gettin’ a grosh o’ the t’ings.’

‘What did you get your mam in the end?’ Rose asked curiously. She had helped Colm with a good bit of his shopping but his mother’s gift was important and he had not actually chosen it whilst with her. ‘You looked at gloves, an’ stockin’s, an’ a vase wi’ poppies on ...’

‘None of ’em,’ Colm said, beginning to write once more. ‘Vases are more for the house than for me mammy, an’ the other t’ings seemed too . . . oh, too
ordinary, somehow. So I paid all the money I could afford an’ got her a warm knitted cardigan in blue and white wool. I just know she’ll love it. It left me short for Caitlin, but you know what little girls are like – she doesn’t care what a t’ing costs so long as it’s pretty. So I chose some cheap pretties, an’ put ’em in a box an’ me daddy took ’em.’

‘Oh, I wish I’d seen ‘em,’ Rose said wistfully. ‘Why didn’t you show me? You’re lucky to have a little sister, but I’ve got Mona, who’s like a big sister. It was real hard buyin’ for her, though – she’s got so much – but I chose careful an’ I think she truly did like the stuff I bought.’

‘They weren’t that special, an’ I got ‘em at the last moment in the end,’ Colm said casually. He looked carefully around him, then lowered his voice. ‘Anyway, if you play your cards right, alanna, Cait’ll be your little sister an’ all soon’s I’ve saved enough, so don’t you forget it!’

‘Good thing Gully’s in the kitchen,’ Rose said. ‘Oh, Colm, it’s been the best Christmas ever!’

‘For me too,’ Colm said fervently. He leaned across the table and tried to pull her towards him but knocked over the vase of flowers – fortunately artificial at this time of year – which Lily kept in the middle of the window table and abandoned the idea, going round the table instead so that he could kiss Rose properly.

‘Get off,’ Rose said, rather breathlessly and a little late, when they parted. ‘What’ll we do this evenin’? Go to the pantomime? I do love the pantomime, though I’ve always been wi’ me mam an’ dad afore.’

‘One t’ing at a time, alanna,’ Colm said, returning to his own side of the table and starting another sheet. ‘Let’s get these done an’ out o’ the way before we start
thinkin’ about this evenin’.’

‘I wonder if we ought to have asked Tommy an’ Mona to come as well?’ Rose said idly a moment later, finishing her second letter. ‘I feel so sorry for Mona, Colm, because her mam never even sent a card. Oh, she’s a nasty woman, real spiteful. Fancy, not sendin’ a card to your own daughter!’

‘Daddy only gave me the two tickets, an’ I doubt it’s too late to try to book more seats now,’ Colm said, blotting another page and pulling the clean one towards him. ‘I don’t t’ink Mona minded too much, either. An’ probably she an’ Tommy ‘ud rather do somethin’ off their own bats. Likely they’d not t’ink much o’ panto. They’re both older than us an’ Tommy likes a drink or two of an evenin’.’

‘An’ you don’t, I suppose? Still, I expect you’re right and they’d sooner go off together. It’s odd, isn’t it? They always liked each other but they didn’t go out much, not together, I mean. We teased ’em, ’cos it were clear they got on well, but they wouldn’t admit to nothin’. Yet this mornin’, at breakfast, they were talkin’ about what they’d do today an’ tomorrow an’ the day after that . . .’ Rose capped her pen carefully and shuffled her pages together. ‘That’s me lot. Are you nearly done?’

‘Nearly. Only Caitlin loves a letter, so she does, an’ this one’s a bit on the brief side. She’ll want to know all about the panto . . . tell you what, I’ll leave it for now an’ finish it off when we come home this evenin’.’

‘Right,’ Rose said. ‘Mr Dawlish came in first thing this morning – did you hear him? He’s asked Mam if she’d like to go to the show at the Empire – nice of him, weren’t it?’

‘Very nice,’ Colm said cordially. ‘Especially as it’s
the Empire an’ not the Play’ouse! Well, me letters are just about done; let’s go out for a walk, eh? Tomorrer we’ll be back at work, so we might as well make the most of our time together.’

Lily had been surprised but very pleased when Mr Dawlish came into the kitchen, with his seabag slung over one shoulder, a gladstone bag in one hand and a big smile on his face, two whole days earlier than she had expected him. ‘Mr Dawlish! What happened?’ she said, crossing the room quickly and helping him to shed his burdens and to slip out of his heavy coat. ‘You said you thought it ‘ud be towards the end o’ December before you was back in port again.’

‘Oh, the skipper unloaded fast at the other end, ’cos his wife’s expectin’ an’ he wanted to get home,’ Mr Dawlish explained. ‘Then we put on full steam – an’ we’ve been lucky wi’ the weather, so far. No really high winds to whip the sea into a frenzy an’ make us late, see? So here I am!’

‘And in good time for breakfast,’ Lily said heartily. ‘Would you like it now, afore the others get up? It’s bacon, eggs, sausage ...’

‘I’d be glad of a round o’ dry bread I’m that clemmed,’ Mr Dawlish said. ‘My, Mrs Ryder, but you’re a cook in a thousand! All the way across the city I’ve been smellin’ bacon from the houses I passed, an’ hopin’ you’d got one o’ your big breakfasts on the go. Just let me wash me hands an’ I’ll lay the table for you.’

‘I’ll have mine wi’ you,’ Lily said comfortably. ‘I’m pretty hungry meself. D’you fancy fried bread?’

Mr Dawlish fancied fried bread and it wasn’t long before the two of them were sitting down to an enormous breakfast, with mugs of tea to hand and
Gulliver, dancing on his perch, quieted by a handful of chopped-up bacon rind, which was very much to his taste and caused him to squeal with excitement when he saw the treat approaching.

They were half-way through their meal, having chatted inconsequentially of this and that – the runup to Christmas, the voyage, the size of the turkey which the family were still eating – when Mr Dawlish dug in his pocket and produced a couple of tickets. ‘Mrs Ryder, I suppose you wouldn’t do me the honour of comin’ to the theatre wi’ me this afternoon? I met an old shipmate – he’s ashore now, more’s the pity – as I was walking up from the docks an’ he told me he an’ his missus were off to friends in Birkenhead for the day and would be missin’ the show that they’d bought tickets for before the invite from their pals. He offered me the tickets for nowt, rather than see ’em wasted, so I gave him some money to buy his kids a few treats, an’ now I’ve two tickets for the best seats at the Empire this afternoon. What d’you say?’