The Bright One (31 page)

The old lady gave her an icy stare. ‘I'm not
your
grandmother, young lady! I have a name!'

Though who uses my name nowadays, she thought. It was Grandma this and Grandma that, not just from the family, but from their friends, from the neighbours. Everyone. She doubted if there was anyone left who knew her first name was Rose, let alone called her by it. And a pretty name it was. And hadn't she once been as pretty as this girl standing in front of her. Indeed, wasn't there something about the child which brought back long-forgotten memories?

‘I'm sorry, Mrs Maguire. Can I help you?'

‘I don't need help, thank you all the same,' she said a trifle more graciously. ‘Just pass me my stick and leave me to move in my own time. I can't do with being rushed.'

Breda went back into the kitchen. Josephine, ladling the soup, glanced up at her.

‘So it's one of those days, is it? Well, you'll not be able to do right for doing wrong.'

‘She wasn't too bad,' Breda said. ‘She's just not used to me. She'd rather have you.'

Josephine shook her head. It was always the same. They all wanted her full attention on themselves. If it wasn't Grandma, it was Brendan, or it was Maureen or Michael. Some days she felt she was being chopped into little bits. Yet hadn't she brought it on herself? Hadn't she, truth to tell, wanted to be the centre of their worlds? And now, occasionally, it was too much.

Mrs Maguire shuffled into the room and took her place at the table. Josephine placed a plate of soup in front of her. Her mother-in-law poked it about with her spoon. ‘What's this, then?'

‘Vegetable soup,' Josephine said patiently. What else could it be? But whatever it was, it would be either too hot or too cold. She was certain of that.

Mrs Maguire spooned the soup to her mouth. There was nothing she could do to stop the slight tremor in her hand, which today was more than slight. She didn't quite know whether she could target her mouth, and indeed, when she felt the small dribble of soup down her chin she knew she had failed. It was humiliating. She loathed her infirmities. But at least neither Josephine nor the sharp-eyed girl gave any sign of having noticed.

‘It's very hot, this soup,' she said.

‘It will soon cool down,' Josephine told her. ‘Have you seen anything of Tony?' Surely he couldn't still be in bed.

‘He went out. Gone to the Cow and Calf. Hair of the dog, I reckon. I heard him come in last night, singing his head off.
And
I heard you and Brendan having a barney. I don't sleep much,' she added in a pathetic voice. ‘The slightest thing disturbs me and then I can't get off again.'

Josephine's colour rose at the mention of her quarrel with Brendan. Breda caught her eye and realized that her aunt was embarrassed because of her.

‘I didn't hear a thing!' she said firmly. ‘I must have been fast asleep.'

‘You can when you're young,' Mrs Maguire said. ‘But just you wait!'

You had it all your way when you were young. These days the world revolved around the young, what they wanted, what they thought about everything. When you were old, nobody wanted your opinions. They wanted you to sit in a corner, keep quiet and be docile. Well that wasn't her. If she wanted to stand up and sing ‘Rose of Tralee' she'd do it. Let them try to stop her!

How would she have managed if she hadn't fought for her place? Her husband had been killed in the Boer War, leaving her with Brendan, their only child. It hadn't been easy; nothing was in Ireland if you were poor, but she'd come through, brought up her son, though only to have him cross the water to England.

‘Eat up your soup, Grandma,' Josephine said.

Mrs Maguire put down her spoon. She had had enough. ‘I never wanted to leave Ireland,' she said.

Josephine looked at her keenly. Where had she been? She was always taking journeys in her mind.

‘I know you didn't, Grandma.' Her voice was gentle. ‘But Brendan thought you'd be better here, where he could keep an eye on you.'

‘I left Ireland,' Mrs Maguire said. ‘But Ireland never left me.'

‘Isn't it just the same with me?' Josephine said.

Tony came in, lightening the atmosphere like a rushing wind. He put his hands on his grandmother's shoulders and gave her a squeeze.

‘So where were you two this morning?' he asked his mother.

‘We went into town, to the Food Office. There's soup in the pan. Help yourself.'

He brought his dish to the table and sat down. ‘And what did you think of Akersfield?' he asked Breda.

‘Sure, it was nice,' she said. ‘Lots of shops, and
two
cinemas!'

‘You like going to the pictures, do you? In that case we'll go this evening, as it's my last and Ma won't let me take you to the pub. Which one do you want to see?'

‘Wouldn't that be wonderful!' Breda said. She felt herself suffused with pleasure. ‘'Twould be a treat to see either.'

‘You have to choose,' Tony said.

‘Then Bing Crosby and Ingrid Bergman,' she said.

Why would he be making such a fuss of her, Grandma Maguire wondered? But it meant nothing, it was his way. He got on with everyone. And wasn't he the only person who didn't treat her as if she was an old lady? It was as if he recognized what she already knew, that inside her old body, which was a burden to her, and constantly let her down, there lurked a younger spirit. People thought you aged inside, but you didn't, well not much. She remembered perfectly well what it was like to be young. She'd been fond of the dancing, and if only her body would allow her she'd still get up and do it with as much zest as the best of them.

In the afternoon, both Maureen and Kate came with the youngest children. Breda liked both sisters, but Kate especially. Then at half-past five Brendan came in from work, unsmiling, not in the best of tempers. ‘So you've been out looking for a job, then?' he asked Breda.

She flinched at the sharpness of his voice. ‘Not yet, Uncle Brendan. But I mean to do so tomorrow. I shall go to the Labour Exchange.'

‘You'd be better looking in the local paper,' Josephine said. ‘The
Akersfield Record
or the
Leasfield Courier
. Though I'm sure I don't know what the rush is.'

She gave her husband a warning glance. She guessed he had been bricklaying today and, oddly, this always made him bad-tempered. She couldn't understand it, it looked simple enough. And hadn't Winston Churchill laid bricks, built a whole brick wall, as a relaxation from running the war? Tony reckoned it was because his father didn't have a straight eye, but Brendan would have none of that.

‘I do
want
to get a job, Uncle Brendan; and as soon as possible,' Breda said.

‘I'm glad to hear it,' Brendan said. ‘And your aunt's quite right. The newspaper's the best. If you nip out now they'll happen have one left at the corner shop. No time like the present!'

Breda stood up. ‘I'll go at once!'

‘I'll go with you, show you where it is,' Kate offered.

‘There's something I'd like to ask you, Kate,' Breda said as they walked to the shop.

Kate looked at her keenly. She could guess what it was, which was why she had offered to accompany her.

‘Why does Uncle Brendan dislike me?' Breda asked. ‘Have I done something wrong? I would ask Auntie Josie, only she looks uncomfortable when he snaps at me.'

‘Bless you, love,' Kate said. ‘You've done nothing wrong at all. In a way, it's not really you he's getting at, it's Mam. You see, he dotes on her. I think all he's ever wanted is Mam. But nine months after they were married, I arrived – and then all the rest. And there was his mother. He's a dutiful son and, in fact, he's always been a good father, but he's never had Mam to himself. I think that's why he was pleased when Tony joined the Army. He was the last one living at home.'

‘And now I've landed on him,' Breda said. ‘Why did Auntie Josie let me?'

‘Because she has a heart as big as a house. She has enough love for the whole world,' Kate said. ‘I'm sure it never occurred to her not to have you – and please don't think you're not welcome, because you are.'

‘Except to Uncle Brendan.'

‘Don't worry. He'll come round. And if you know what it's about, you'll understand him better. He's a good man, really. He'd help anyone who needed it.'

The
Record
had sold out but there was a copy of the
Leasfield Courier
left. Outside the shop again, Breda opened it, searching for Situations Vacant.

‘Unless there's one for a shop assistant, I don't know what I'll do,' she said to Kate. ‘It's the only job I know anything about.'

Kate looked over her shoulder, scanning the column.

‘How about that?' she said. ‘Third sales required. Fabrics department. Apply in person. Opal's, Leasfield.'

‘Where's Leasfield? What's Opal's?' Breda asked. ‘But at least I know a bit about fabrics, though not about selling them.'

They folded the paper and started to walk back.

‘Leasfield is about three miles away,' Kate said. ‘There's a bus every twenty minutes from the bottom of the road. It's as convenient as Akersfield, really, though not as big.'

‘Opal's is the best store in these parts,' Josephine said when Breda showed her the advertisement. ‘Some say the best in the West Riding, and I'd not be the one to contradict that. And to think she started with a little house shop, selling sweets and reels of cotton! And she's younger than me. I reckon she can't be fifty yet. You'd be lucky if you got a job with Opal's.'

‘Then I shall go first thing in the morning,' Breda said.

‘In the meantime,' Tony broke in, ‘we're going to the pictures, you and me. We'd best get off if we don't want to miss the beginning.'

Quite apart from the fact that it took her mind off the next day's search for a job, the thought of which terrified her, the evening was wonderful from start to finish. Before they went into the cinema Tony bought her a box of chocolates, hard centres which were her favourites, at the shop next door. Then, inside the cinema, where a wide, luxuriously carpeted staircase led up to the balcony, they sat in the best seats: tip-up seats, covered in crimson plush, with broad arms – except that they sat in a double seat with no arm in the middle.

The minute they were settled Tony took her hand in his, and by the time they had sat through the newsreel and the coming attractions for next week his arm was around her, holding her close. Of course it was not the first time she had sat in the picture with a boy, and him with his arms around her and his hands straying where they shouldn't, but never in a posh place like this and with a man as handsome as Tony.

He was, in fact, better looking than Bing Crosby, now gliding across the screen in his clerical garb, though the latter was nicer than any Catholic priest
she
had ever known, and a thousand miles from Father Curran. Tony, she thought dreamily, was more like Gregory Peck. 'Twas a pity, in a way, that he was her cousin, yet if he hadn't been, would she ever have met him? She leaned happily against his shoulder and his arm tightened around her.

When it was over they took the bus home. They walked up Waterloo Terrace hand in hand, and when they reached the gate of number 52 he took her in his arms, and kissed her on the lips. It was a long, lingering kiss. It took the breath from her body and she thought she must swoon with ecstasy. When his lips left hers she recovered her breath, and held up her face again to his.

He smiled, took her firmly by the shoulders, turned her around so that she was facing the house door.

‘Off you go!' he said. ‘Tell Ma I'll not be late, but no need for anyone to wait up for me. I'm going off to the Cow and Calf for a pint. Should just get one in before closing time.'

He patted her on the bottom, and was gone.

She walked up the short path to the door, torn by conflicting emotions: deep pleasure at the memory of the evening, and his kiss; more than a slight disappointment at his abrupt departure. Perhaps, she thought, he had to tear himself away or he would have gone too far!

Auntie Josephine had heard her footsteps on the path and was at the door before Breda had time to ring the bell. She showed no surprise when Breda explained Tony's absence. ‘Did you have a nice time, then?' she asked.

‘Wonderful!'

‘I've saved you a bit of supper,' Josephine said.

‘I'm not the least bit hungry,' Breda sighed. ‘I think I might go straight to bed. Get a good night's sleep before the morning.'

Not that she thought she would sleep a wink.

Opal's store was easy to find. The bus stopped right outside the door and the conductor called out the name. Most of the women on the bus got off at the same stop.

It was an imposing building. As good, she thought, feeling disloyal, as any store she had seen in Dublin. A commissionaire in a splendid uniform, with sergeant's stripes on his arms and gold epaulettes on his shoulders, stood at the entrance. She went up to him.

‘I've come about a job,' she said.

‘Then it's the staff entrance you want, Miss,' he said. ‘Round the corner.'

The staff entrance was much less grand than the customer entrance; dark and chilly, the walls covered by slots with cards in them, everything dominated by a large clock. She was directed to climb a flight of stone stairs to the enquiries desk, behind which a bored-looking woman eventually broke off a conversation with her colleague and turned to Breda.