Foreign Affairs Page 11

  She gave another deep sigh. She’d been really looking forward to her eighth birthday for ages. After much pleading and promises that she’d never ask for anything else again as long as she lived, her mother had finally agreed to have a party. Brenda had been thrilled skinny. She’d told everybody on the street about the forthcoming party weeks in advance. In a way she was sorry she was on her school holidays. She would have liked the whole class to know that she was having a party. Some of her friends on the street were in her class but she would have liked Cora Delahunty, who was a real snooty show-off, to know. Cora went to acting and dancing classes and could recite the entire alphabet without drawing a breath. She really thought she was IT and she pranced around in skirts so short that you could see her knickers. Of course, Cora didn’t wear navy or plain white cotton knickers like everyone else. Oh no, hers were pink or blue frilly things. She was always dressed to the nines.

  Cora Delahunty was really sly too. Brenda frowned thinking of her classmate’s slyness. The great craze this year at school had been collecting beads. Practically every girl, from first class to sixth class, had a collection of beads and the thing was to swap for a particular bead you might fancy. Well of course Madame Delahunty had the collection but Brenda had a beautiful set of amber glass beads that her gran had given her and Cora asked her would she like to swap one for one of Cora’s. Brenda said no at first but Cora was not one to give up easily and she was ever so attentive to Brenda that week in school. Playing with her, nattering her, linking her in the playground. Finally Brenda succumbed and agreed to swap for a pretty mother-of-pearl bead. Cora was overjoyed that she’d at last got the bead she wanted. Beaming, she dropped her own bead into Brenda’s box. It was only later that Brenda noticed a dirty off-white plastic bead in her collection. She just couldn’t believe that Cora had played such a dirty trick on her. But she had. No mother-of-pearl type bead reposed in Brenda’s box. Of course, Cora denied outright that she hadn’t given the mother-of-pearl bead to her classmate and accused Brenda of losing it. After that, there was no more flattery, no more linking in the yard. In fact Cora dropped Brenda like a hot potato. Secretly Brenda was devastated. She had very much enjoyed being part of Cora’s much-envied entourage. She’d even gone to tea at Cora’s, which was a treat reserved for only the chosen few. Kathy and the others who sat in Brenda’s row at school had been deeply envious. Now Cora was ignoring her as if she didn’t exist. It was extremely galling.

  If she’d been at school, Cora would have heard all about the party and, being Cora, would be mad to go to it so she could do her fancy dancing and recitations and impress everybody. Brenda would’ve had the pleasure of keeping her on tenterhooks as to whether or not she was going to get an invitation. That revenge would have been sweet. But, Brenda reflected, the way things were going, maybe it was just as well Cora didn’t know about the party. Having to delay it while they all went into Temple Street was nothing to boast about. With another sigh, Brenda went to put her party dress on.

  ‘Ah Gerard!’ Kit exclaimed in exasperation as she heard her one-year-old son performing in the clean nappy she had just put on him. If she didn’t get a move on, they’d miss the two o’clock bus from the terminus, and it would be all hours before they got into the hospital. God knows she could do without Brenda’s party today, she mused as she unfastened her son’s nappy and wiped his dirty bum. It was unfortunate that poor Jennifer’s kidney infection had been such a bad one. The poor child was as sick as a dog and they’d decided to keep her in until her temperature was normal. It had been a good while since she’d had that old infection, the doctors had told Kit that she would grow out of them.

  The sooner the better, Kit thought tiredly as she put her squalling infant back in his pram and went in search of Sean, his three-year-old brother. Sean, as usual, did not want his hair brushed and a yelling match ensued. By the time she had him cleaned up she was fit to be tied. She was just coming up to her period and she was like a demon. She had one of those awful hormony headaches that made her feel as if her brains were going to explode out of her head. Her stomach was horribly bloated, she felt queasy and she wanted to scream at the children. It was such an effort to keep her temper under control. More than anything, Kit would have loved to go up to bed, pull the curtains, and lie in the soothing darkness and shut out the world for an hour even. Well at least she wasn’t pregnant, she thought wryly as she ran a comb through her hair and traced a coral lipstick across her lips.

  Her mother-in-law was ailing too. Kit usually called in to do a bit of cleaning for her, or make the tea. Today, with the party and everything, she’d have to skip it. Mrs Myles wouldn’t mind but no doubt that old rip of a husband of hers, Dan, would have a face on him because his tea wasn’t on the table.

  Kit’s mouth tightened at the thought of her father-in-law. She couldn’t stand him. He was a right old bully. His word was law, as far as he was concerned. He even had the nerve to try and tell her what to do and she a grown woman with four children. Jim allowed his father to treat him as if he was a child. It infuriated Kit and they often rowed about it. His own daughter would have nothing to do with him and Kit couldn’t really blame her. He had ordered her not to marry her boyfriend or, if she did, never to darken his door again. The poor girl had been in bits. Kit had had a terrible time trying to persuade her to marry John, who was a lovely chap. He was an artist. In Dan’s eyes this was most definitely not a proper job. No daughter of his was going to marry a layabout who couldn’t afford to keep her, he ranted and raved. In the end, there’d been a huge row. Ellen left home and went to live with Kit and Jim. It was from their house she had finally married her artist. Jim gave her away. Kit was her matron-of-honour and the only other guests were John’s family. Mrs Myles was heartbroken not to be at the wedding of her only daughter, and never got over it. Her husband’s hold on her was strong and he’d issued an edict that she was never to see or speak to her daughter again.

  ‘Nonsense,’ Kit fumed. ‘Just let me know when you’re dropping in for a cup of tea and a chat and I’ll arrange for Ellen to be here. He’ll never know,’ Kit instructed her mother-in-law. The first time Mrs Myles met her daughter at Kit’s she’d been a nervous wreck, even though her husband had been at work in the factory where he was a foreman, on the other side of the city. Gradually, over the weeks and months, she’d begun to relax until she got to the stage where she really enjoyed the illicit meetings. She liked getting the better of her husband for the first time in years of marriage, she confided one day as she and Kit washed up after their very enjoyable afternoon tea. Kit loved to see that sparkle of excitement in her mother-in-law’s eyes when she arrived on her weekly visit. She was very fond of Mrs Myles and she couldn’t fathom how she’d lived with Dan and his overbearing ways all these years. Dan, who couldn’t conceive of the notion of his wife flouting his authority, never discovered the secret meetings. They went on over the years, and Mrs Myles had the joy of holding Ellen’s babies in her arms and watching them grow into two happy-go-lucky children.

  Then she’d got sick and, as her illness took hold, her visits became less frequent until finally she became too sick to leave her own house. Ellen went home a few times during the afternoons when her father was sure to be at work but Mrs Myles had been so edgy and nervous about it she stopped going. Looking at her mother-in-law, who was visibly failing, Kit knew she wasn’t going to last much longer. Well by God, when she died, that was the last Dan Myles would see of her. She’d never set foot in his house again. Jim could go and see his father if he wished. That was up to him. But she wanted to have nothing to do with him. The mean old bastard. He would have let his wife die without seeing her daughter and grandchildren. Kit hoped he’d rot in hell.

  Somehow or another she’d get a chance to pop round and visit her mother-in-law, she decided as she finally got her offspring out the front door. Rounding the corner at the end of the street, Kit almost wept with frustration as she saw the No. 13 bus disappear down St Papp
in’s Road.

  Brenda was having a splendid time. Auntie Ellen and Mammy had made loads of lovely sandwiches. There were egg ones, her favourite. And banana, and chicken and ham roll. There was lovely ice cream and jelly and Perri crisps and jelly babies and lemonade. It was a brilliant party. Everybody was saying so. Her cousins Pamela and Susan were there and all her friends on the street and they were having a picnic in the back garden. She’d got some lovely presents too. Even Jennifer had drawn her a card and sung Happy Birthday to her in the hospital. Then she’d started bawling crying when they were leaving. Brenda had seen her mother crying too as they walked down the stairs of the hospital, with Jennifer’s wails following them. It had given Brenda an awful shock to see her mother with tears sliding down her cheeks as they left Temple Street. She’d felt a bit lonely and scared. She’d never seen her mammy crying before. She was crying because she was sad leaving Jennifer. Jennifer was her pet, Brenda just knew it and it made her feel most unhappy.

  She’d only stopped feeling unhappy when they’d finally got home and the party guests had started arriving. Then she’d started to feel special again. And when her mammy brought them all inside and lit the eight candles on the cake and everybody had sung Happy Birthday and For She’s a Jolly Good Fellow, she felt so excited and happy. She blew out the candles and everybody cheered and her mother put her arms around her and hugged her and told her she was very proud of her. Then her daddy came in from work and made them light the candles again so he could sing Happy Birthday to her and she felt like bursting with pride. Then they all played blind man’s buff and while they were in the middle of it, there was a knock at the front door. Brenda was the nearest so she opened it. Standing on the step, wearing the frilliest dress Brenda had ever seen, was Cora Delahunty. Standing two paces behind her was Cora’s best friend, Claire Regan. She too was wearing a posh dress, although it wasn’t quite as frilly as Cora’s.

  ‘Hello Brenda,’ Cora said, giving her sweetest smile.

  ‘Hello,’ Brenda responded guardedly. What was Miss Cora up to? Then it dawned on her. Of course. Cora had found out about the party and had decided it was time to be friends so she could get in.

  ‘Would you like to swap some beads?’ Cora held out her box. ‘You can have whatever one you like.’ She smiled ingratiatingly.

  Intense happiness flooded through Brenda as she stood at her front door watching Cora demean herself. Suddenly all the hurt and frustration of being dropped like a hot potato was worth it. Just for this moment.

  ‘No thank you, Cora,’ she said cordially as the noise from the sitting-room reached a climax because her father had been caught and a crowd of cheering guests had launched themselves upon him.

  ‘I can’t stop to swap beads now,’ she explained ever so politely. ‘It’s my birthday, you see, and I’m having a party.’ Then Brenda closed the door, leaving Cora and her attendant in tears of rage. It was the best birthday party of her entire life, she thought, admiring herself in the mirror before rejoining her guests. She felt very grown-up. When she went to secondary school she’d be able to have boys at her party. That was something to look forward to.

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘Will you come on, we’re going to be late,’ Jennifer heard her sister yell up the stairs. She threw her eyes up to heaven. That Brenda, she was always making a fuss about something.

  ‘It’s fine, Mammy,’ she said hastily to her mother, who was arranging her Holy Communion veil on her head.

  ‘Brenda can wait a minute or two, you’ve loads of time,’ Kit said calmly.

  ‘Ooh Mammy, you know her,’ Jennifer groaned. ‘She always likes to be early.’

  ‘Go on, go on, here, don’t forget your basket.’ Kit handed her the basket filled to the brim with rose petals and apple blossom. Jennifer was a flower girl in the Corpus Christi procession and Brenda and Kathy, who were prefects in the sodality, were in charge of the flower girls.

  Jennifer raced down the stairs trying not to let any of the precious petals escape from the basket. It was a great honour to be a flower girl. All the Holy Communion class and several girls out of each of the other classes had been chosen specially. Beth and herself and Norma Murray and Suzy Doherty were the girls picked out of her class.

  ‘It’s about bloomin’ time,’ Brenda snapped. ‘You’re always the same.’

  ‘Would you get lost, you didn’t have to wait. Beth and I can go by ourselves.’

  ‘Mammy said you were to come with Kathy and me. You’re only a child.’

  ‘I am not,’ Jennifer exploded. ‘I’m nearly nine.’

  ‘And I’m a teenager,’ her sister said with disdain.

  ‘Not yet, you’re not,’ Jennifer fumed. ‘Not for two months.’

  ‘Oh shut up and come on,’ Brenda said impatiently.

  ‘Bossy boots.’ Jennifer scowled.

  ‘For heaven’s sake the two of you, would you stop fighting!’ Kit appeared at the top of the stairs. ‘A fine pair to be going on a procession. Heavens above, wouldn’t you think you’d make an effort to get on. I wish I had a sister to share my trials and tribulations with and God knows I’ve enough trials and tribulations with you two.’ She glared at them. ‘Don’t make a holy show of me arguing on the street, I’m warning you. Now off you go and behave yourselves. I’ll be keeping an eye on you so be told.’

  In sullen silence the two girls walked out the front door and headed for Kathy and Beth’s house. Jennifer was raging. Brenda had gone and got her into trouble with her mother for nothing and she’d wanted to ask her if she could stay with her cousin Pamela for the night. If there was one thing Jennifer really enjoyed it was sleeping over at her cousin’s. Pamela’s house was a bit posh. She had her own room and Susie, her other cousin, had hers. Pamela had a record player in her room and a collection of Beatles records. Jennifer adored the Beatles but her absolute favourite was Elvis. Pamela let her play Wooden Heart as many times as she liked when she stayed over. Pamela also had a collection of make-up filiched from her mother’s dressing-table. Used lipsticks and foundation and eyeshadows. They had the greatest fun experimenting in the privacy of Pamela’s room.

  Then, of course, there were the suppers. Jennifer never had supper at home. Once tea was over, that was it in the Myles household. But Auntie Ellen and Uncle John always had supper and so did Susie and Pamela. Pamela was allowed to make her own. She always had cocoa with loads of sugar in it. And cream crackers and cheese. Or cheese on toast, which was Jennifer’s favourite. After which they’d have biscuits. And not just plain Marietta or Arrowroot either. After an evening playing ‘Office’ Jennifer was more than ready for a hearty supper.

  ‘Office’ was a game of her own invention and they had such fun playing it. They had two cases of ‘documents’ collected from all kinds of places. The local supermarkets were excellent sources. She and Pamela would collect as many promotional and competition leaflets as they could. They had loads of invoices from Findlaters, who delivered Kit’s weekly groceries, and Pamela’s father brought home great stuff from work. They would spend hours filing and refiling and ticking off with red biro. They pretended to talk to customers using two imitation phones that Pamela owned. It kept them entertained for hours and they felt so grown-up, wearing lipstick and smoking sweet ‘cigarettes’ for added effect.

  Pamela was allowed to read until late. Jennifer and Brenda had to have their lights out by nine o’clock. Pamela had a huge collection of Enid Blyton books. The mystery books were brilliant. How Jennifer longed to be part of a gang like The Secret Seven or The Famous Five. What mysteries she would solve. She and Pamela were sure that Miriam Kelly’s father was in a sinister conspiracy of some sort. He looked a bit like a spy. He was always going abroad and Miriam mentioned once that he regularly had meetings with men who spoke foreign languages.

  Pamela, Beth and Jennifer had followed him one day. Trailed him, just like Fatty and Co in the Five Find-Outers. It had been a bit of a disappointment as he’d just gone down to Dign
an’s and bought himself a plug of tobacco. They’d watched intently as he’d handed over his money, just in case he was passing a secret message. They hadn’t caught him, but they knew he was up to no good and they would stay on his trail until they caught him in the act, they vowed.

  Well sinister Mr Kelly could be meeting a Russian spy tonight and she wouldn’t be able to do anything about it, because she’d be stuck at home thanks to Miss Brenda, Jennifer thought glumly as they reached their friends’ house. Brenda, ignoring her with haughty disdain, knocked on the front door and turned her back on her. There were times, Jennifer thought angrily, that she almost hated her sister. Brenda would have a face on her now for ages and life would be most uncomfortable. Especially in the bedroom. If she even dared to put anything on Brenda’s half of the dressing-table by mistake, there’d be war. If Brenda caught her reading her Bunty she’d be thumped. And she had a brand-new one that she’d only got yesterday and Jennifer was dying to read The Four Marys.

  ‘Sorry for delaying you. I suppose you’re not going to talk to me now,’ she ventured, as usual being the first one to hold out the olive branch. A contemptuous silence greeted Jennifer’s overture. ‘Well I think you’re very mean,’ she burst out as Beth opened the door.

  ‘What’s wrong with Brenda?’ her friend enquired as they walked behind their respective older sisters en route to the procession.