FormydearloveGordonSnell
INTRODUCTION
Oh, how I envy anyone reading Circle of Friends for the very first time! You are in for such a treat, and are about to enter a world brought vividly to life by one of the most skilled storytellers of our age.
I was lucky enough to meet and interview Maeve Binchy a number of years ago, and it was such a joy. Behind her wise and warm eyes was a sharp intellect, a keen sense of right and wrong, and a deep humanity. She was also incredibly funny; and in a world divided into ‘fountains’ and ‘drains’ – people who can refresh, revive and give life to those around them, and people who draw upon and leech away the energy of others – Binchy was, without question, the Trevi Fountain of fountains.
Circle of Friends is a story of love, friendship, loss and betrayal, but it’s also so much more than that. Maeve Binchy was never afraid to deal with the most important and universal emotions, and she knew exactly what makes us tick. She had a keen emotional intelligence, and a magical ability to immerse you completely in any world she created.
The world of Circle of Friends is one in which you feel so connected with the characters that you simply cannot stop yourself from turning the pages. No matter how many times I read it, I always find myself galloping through it, even though I try my hardest to take my time and savour it. Despite already knowing how the novel ends, I always have to race through and read what happens next!
The first time I reached the end, I was surprised, and satisfied, but I was also left feeling bereft. Finishing the book felt like I was saying goodbye to dear friends who I had come to love, even the ones whose choices and actions, at times, exasperated and frustrated me!
Whenever I return to read Circle of Friends, I can always picture each character so vividly – I feel I know exactly what they all look like – and I can effortlessly empathise with their sorrows and joys, feeling their emotions right alongside them. I most strongly identify with the socially awkward, slightly plump Benny, whose journey is at the heart of this coming-of-age story. Although Benny might end up being bruised, belittled and betrayed, she always has hope in her heart.
Benny is one of my favourite characters in all of fiction and, when you read Circle of Friends, it may not come as a surprise to learn that Maeve drew on her own experience of being a student at University College in Dublin where – like Benny – she was also a bit insecure and awkward around boys. Both Maeve and Benny share those admirable qualities of decency, honesty and sheer likeability.
There are no gimmicky plot twists in Circle of Friends,
and there are no explicit sex scenes (for which I am secretly grateful), because Maeve Binchy didn’t need such easy distractions to grab and hold your interest. Her work is always completely absorbing and relatable, and she had the rare ability to make the ordinary extraordinary. Her writing feels totally authentic, and Binchy’s gift for authenticity is what made her such a rare talent and a genuine treasure.
I absolutely adore Circle of Friends – my ‘fave Maeve’ –and, over the years, I have returned to read it time and time again. We are so blessed that this incredible woman left us so many brilliant novels, so many incredible characters, and such an important legacy.
Thank you, Maeve.
lorraine kelly November 2019
1949
Thekitchenwasfullofthesmellsofbaking.Bennyput downherschoolbagandwentonatourofinspection.
‘Thecakehasn’tbeenicedyet,’Patsyexplained.‘The mistresswilldothatherself.’
‘Whatareyougoingtoputonit?’Bennywaseager.
‘IsupposeHappyBirthdayBenny.’Patsywassurprised.
‘Maybeshe’llputBennyHogan,Ten.’ ‘Ineversawthatonacake.’
‘Ithinkitis,whenit’sabigbirthdaylikebeingten.’ ‘Maybe.’Patsywasdoubtful.
‘Andarethejelliesmade?’
‘They’reinthepantry.Don’tgoinpokingatthem, you’llleavethemarkofyourfingerandwe’llallbe killed.’
‘Ican’tbelieveI’mgoingtobeten,’Bennysaid, delightedwithherself.
‘Ah,it’sabigdayallright.’Patsyspokeabsentlyasshe
greasedthetraysforthequeencakeswithascrapofbutter paper.
‘Whatdidyoudowhenyouwereten?’
‘Don’tyouknowwithmeeverydaywasthesame,’ Patsysaidcheerfully.‘Therewasnodaydifferentinthe orphanageuntilIcameoutofitandcamehere.’
Bennylovedtohearstoriesoftheorphanage.She thoughtitwasbetterthananythingshereadinbooks. Therewastheroomwiththetwelveironbedsinit,the nicegirls,theterriblegirls,thetimetheyallgotnitsin theirhairandhadtheirheadsshaved.
‘Theymusthavehadbirthdays,’Bennyinsisted.
‘Idon’trememberthem,’Patsysighed.‘Therewasa nicenunwhosaidtomethatIwasWednesday’schild,full ofwoe.’
‘Thatwasn’tnice.’
‘Well,atleastsheknewIwasbornonaWednesday... Here’syourmother,nowletmegetonwiththework.’
AnnabelHogancameincarryingthreebigbags.She wassurprisedtoseeherdaughtersittingswingingherlegs inthekitchen.
‘Aren’tyouhomeniceandearly?Letmeputthese thingsupstairs.’
BennyranovertoPatsywhenhermother’sheavytread washeardonthestairs.
‘Doyouthinkshegotit?’
‘Don’taskme,Benny,Iknownothing.’
‘You’resayingthatbecauseyou do know.’
‘I don’t. Really.’
‘WassheinDublin?Didshegouponthebus?’ ‘No,notatall.’
‘Butshemusthave.’Bennyseemedverydisappointed. ‘No,she’snotlonggoneatall...Shewasonlyupthe town.’
Bennylickedthespoonthoughtfully.It’snicerraw,’she said.
‘Youalwaysthoughtthat.’Patsylookedatherfondly.
‘WhenI’meighteenandcandowhatIlike,I’lleatall mycakesuncooked,’Bennypronounced.
‘Noyouwon’t,whenyou’reeighteenyou’llbesobusy gettingthinyouwon’teatcakesatall.’
‘I’llalwayswantcakes.’
‘Yousaythatnow.Waittillyouwantsomefellowto fancyyou.’
‘Doyouwantafellowtofancyyou?’
‘OfcourseIdo,whatelseisthere?’
‘Whatfellow?Idon’twantyoutogo,anyway.’
‘Iwon’tgetafellow,I’mfromnowhere,adecentfellow wouldn’tbeabletotalkaboutmeandwhereIcamefrom. Ihavenobackground,nolifebefore,yousee.’
‘Butyouhada great life,’Bennycried.‘You’dmake themallinterestedinyou.’
Therewasnotimetodiscussitfurther.Benny’smother wasbackinthekitchen,hercoatoffanddowntobusiness withtheicingsugar.
‘WereyouinDublinatalltoday,Mother?’
‘No,child,Ihadenoughtodogettingthingsreadyfor theparty.’
‘It’sjustIwaswondering...’
‘Partiesdon’trunthemselves,youknow.’Thewords soundedsharpbutthetonewaskindly.Bennyknewher motherwaslookingforwardtoitalltoo.
‘AndwillFatherbehomeforthecakebit?’
‘Yes,hewill.We’veaskedthepeopleforhalfpastthree, they’llallbeherebyfour,soweneedn’tsitdowntothe teauntilhalfpastfive,andwewouldn’thavegottothe cakeuntilyourfatherhasthebusinessclosed,andisback here.’
Benny’sfatherranHogan’sOutfitters,thebig menswearshopinthemiddleofKnockglen.Theshopwas oftenatitsbusiestonaSaturday,whenthefarmerscame in,orthemenwhohadahalfdaythemselveswere marchedinbywivestohavethemselvesfittedoutbyMr Hogan,orMiketheoldassistant,thetailorwhohadbeen theresincetimeimmemorial.Sincethedayswhenyoung MrHoganhadboughtthebusiness.
Bennywasgladthatherfatherwouldbethereforthe cake,becausethatwaswhenshemightbegivenher present.Fatherhadsaiditwasgoingtobeawonderful surprise.Benny knew thattheymusthavegotherthe velvetdresswiththelacycollarandthepumpstogowith it.ShehadwanteditsincelastChristmaswhentheywent tothepantomimeinDublinandshehadseenthegirlson thestagedancinginpinkvelvetdresseslikethis.
TheyhadheardthattheysoldtheminClery’s,andthat wasonlyafewminutesfromwherethebusstoppedwhen itwenttoDublin.
Bennywaslargeandsquare,butshewouldn’tlooklike thatinthepinkvelvetdress.Shewouldbejustlikethe fairydancerstheyhadseenonthestage,andherfeet wouldn’tlookbigandflatinthoseshoesbecausetheyhad lovelypointytoes,andlittlepom-pomsonthem.
Theinvitationstothepartyhadbeensentouttendays ago.Therewouldbesevengirlsfromschool,farmers’ daughtersmainlyfromoutsideKnockglen.AndMaire Carroll,whosemotherandfatherownedthegrocery.The Kennedysfromthechemistwereallboyssotheywouldn’t bethere,andDrJohnson’schildrenwerealltooyoungso theycouldn’tcomeeither.PeggyPinewhoranthesmart clothesshopsaidthatshemighthaveheryoungniece stayingwithher.Bennysaidshedidn’twantanyonethey didn’tknow,anditwaswithsomereliefthattheyheard thenieceClodaghdidn’twanttogoamongststrangers either.
HermotherhadinsistedsheinviteEveMaloneandthat wasbadenough.Evewasthegirlwholivedintheconvent andknewallthenuns’secrets.Somepeopleatschoolsaid lookhowMotherFrancisnevergivesouttoEve,she’sthe realpet;otherssaidthenunshadtokeepherforcharity anddidn’tlikeherasmuchastheylikedtheothergirls whosefamiliesallcontributedsomethingtotheupkeepof StMary’s.
Evewassmallanddark.Shelookedlikeapixiesometimes,hereyesdartinghereandthere,foreverwatchful. BennyneitherlikedEvenordislikedher.Sheenviedher beingsofleetandlitheandabletoclimbwalls.Sheknew
thatEvehadherownroomintheconvent,behindthe curtainwherenoothergirlwasallowedtostep.Thegirls saiditwastheroomwiththeroundwindowthatfaced downthetownandthatEvecouldsitatthewindowand watcheveryoneandwheretheywentandwhotheywere with.Sheneverwentonholidaysanywhere,shestayed withthenunsallthetime.SometimesMotherFrancisand MissPinefromthedressshopwouldtakeheronanouting toDublin,butshehadneverstayedawayanight.
Once,whentheyhadgoneonanaturewalk,Evehad pointedtoasmallcottageandsaidthatitwasherhouse.It stoodinagroupofsmallhouses,eachseparateandsurroundedbyalittlestonewall.Theylookeddownintothe bigdisusedquarry.Whenshewasoldershewouldlivein itallonherownandtherewouldbenomilkallowedinthe door,andnoclotheshangers.Shewouldputallherthings onthefloorbecauseitwasherstodowhatshelikedwith.
SomeofthemwerehalfafraidofEve,sonobodydenied thestory,butnobodyreallybelievediteither.Evewasso strange,shecouldmakeuptalesandthen,wheneveryone hadgotinterested,shewouldsay,‘Fooledyou’.
Bennydidn’treallywanthertocometotheparty,but foronceMotherhadbeeninsistent.
‘Thatchildhasnohome.Shemustcometothisone whenthere’sacelebration.’
‘She has ahome,Mother,she’sgottherunofthewhole convent.’
‘That’snotthesame.She’stocomehere,Benny,that’s mylastword.’
Evehadwrittenaveryneatcorrectlettersayingthatshe acceptedtheinvitationwithpleasure.
‘Theytaughthertowritenicely,’Benny’sfatherhad saidapprovingly.
‘They’redeterminedtomakealadyoutofher,’Mother hadsaid.Noonewouldexplainwhyitseemedso important.
‘Whenit’sherbirthdaysheonlygetsholypicturesand holywaterfonts,’Bennyreported.‘That’sallthenuns have,yousee.’
‘God,thatwouldturnafewofthemoverintheirgraves upthereundertheyewtrees,’ Benny’sfatherhadsaid,but againtherewasnoexplanationofwhy.
‘PoorEve,whatastartforher,’Benny’smothersighed. ‘IwonderwasshebornonaWednesdaylikePatsy?’ Bennywasstruckbysomething.
‘Whywouldthatmatter?’
‘She’dbemiserable.Wednesday’schildisfullofwoe,’ Bennyparroted.
‘Nonsense.’Herfatherwasdismissive.
‘WhatdaywasIbornon?’
‘AMonday,MondaySeptember18th,1939,’her mothersaid.‘Atsixo’clockintheevening.’
Herparentsexchangedglances,looksthatseemedto rememberalongwaitforafirstand,asitturnedout,an onlychild.
‘Monday’schildisfairofface,’Bennysaid,grimacing. ‘Well,that’struecertainly!’hermothersaid.
‘Youcouldn’thaveafairerfacethanMaryBernadette
Hogan,spinsterofthisparish,almosttenyearsofage,’ saidherfather.
‘It’snotreallyfair,ImeanIdon’thavefair hair.’Benny struggledtofitinwiththesayingaccurately.
‘YouhavethemostbeautifulhairIhaveeverseen.’Her motherstrokedBenny’slongchestnutlocks. ‘DoIreallylooknice?’sheasked.
Theyreassuredherthatshelookedbeautiful,andshe knew theyhadboughtthedressforher.Shehadbeen worriedforabitbutnowshewascertain.
Atschoolnextday,eventhegirlswhohadn’tbeen askedtothepartywishedherahappybirthday.
‘Whatareyougetting?’ ‘Idon’tknow,it’sasurprise.’ ‘Isitadress?’ ‘Yes,Ithinkso.’ ‘Ah,goon,tellus.’
‘Idon’tknowyet,really.Iwon’thaveittilltheparty.’ ‘WasitgotinDublin?’ ‘Ithinkso.’
Evespokesuddenly.‘Itmighthavebeengothere, there’slotsofthingsinMissPine’s.’
‘Idon’tthinkso.’Bennytossedherhead. Eveshrugged.‘Okay.’
Theothershadgoneaway.
BennyturnedonEve.‘Whydidyousayitwasgotin MissPine’s?Youdon’tknow,youdon’tknowanything.’ ‘Isaidokay.’
‘Have you gotafrock?’
‘Yes,MotherFrancisgotoneatMissPine’s.Idon’t thinkit’snew.Ithinksomeonegaveitbackbecausethere wassomethingwrongwithit.’
Evewasn’tapologetic.Hereyesflashed,shewasready withtheexplanationbeforeanyoneelsecouldmakethe accusation.
‘Youdon’tknowthat.’
‘No,butIthinkit.MotherFranciswouldn’thavethe moneytobuymeanewfrock.’
Bennylookedatherwithadmiration.Shesoftenedin herownattack.
‘Well,Idon’tknoweither.Ithinktheygotmethis lovelyvelvetone.Buttheymightn’t.’
‘Theygotyousomethingnewanyway.’
‘Yes,butI’dreallylookgreatinthis,’Bennysaid.‘It wouldmakeanyonelookgreat.’
‘Don’tthinkaboutittoomuch,’Evewarned.
‘Maybeyou’reright.’
‘It’sniceofyoutoaskme.Ididn’tthinkyoulikedme,’ Evesaid.
‘Oh,Ido.’PoorBennywasflustered.
‘Good.Justaslongasyouweren’ttoldto,oranything.’
‘No!Heavensno!’Bennywasfartoovehement.
Evelookedatherwithameasuredglance.‘Right,’she said.‘Seeyouthisafternoon.’
TheywenttoschoolonSaturdaymornings,andat 12.30whenthebellwenttheyallpouredoutofthe schoolgates.AllexceptEve,whowenttotheconvent kitchen.
‘We’llhavetofeedyouupwithagoodmealbeforeyou go,’saidSisterMargaret.
‘Wewouldn’twantthemtothinkthatagirlfromSt Mary’swouldeatallbeforeherwhenshewentouttotea,’ saidSisterJerome.Theydidn’twanttospellitouttoo muchforEve,butitwasabigevent,thechildtheyhad broughtupbeinginvitedouttoaparty.Thewhole communitywasdelightedforher.
AsBennyhadwalkeddownthetown,MrKennedy calledherintothechemist.
‘Alittlebirdtoldmeitwasyourbirthday,’hesaid. ‘I’mten,’Bennysaid.
‘Iknow.Irememberwhenyouwereborn.Itwasinthe Emergency.YourMamandDadweresopleased.They didn’tmindatallthatyouweren’taboy.’
‘Didtheywantaboydoyouthink?’
‘Everyonewithabusinesswantsaboy.ButIdon’t know,I’vethreeofthem,andIdon’tthinkoneofthem willeverrunthisplaceforme.’Hesighedheavily.
‘Well,IsupposeI’dbetterbe...’
‘No,no.Ibroughtyouintogiveyouapresent.Here’s apackofbarleysugarallforyou.’
‘Oh,MrKennedy...’Bennywasoverwhelmed.
‘Notatall.You’reagrandgirl.Ialwayssayto myself,there’sthatlittlebarrelBennyHogancoming along.’
Abitofthesunlightwentoutofthebarleysugar. MoodilyBennytorethecorneroffthepacketandbegan toeatasweet.
DessieBurns,whosehardwareshopwasnextdoorto Kennedy’s,gaveherashoutofapproval.
‘That’sit,Benny,likemyself,alwaysheadinthe nosebag.Howareyouinyourselfthesedays?’
‘I’mtentoday,MrBurns.’
‘Jaysusisn’tthatgreat,ifyouweresixyearsolderI’d takeyouintoShea’sandputyouuponmykneeandbuy youaginandit.’
‘Thankyou,MrBurns.’Shelookedathimfearfully.
‘What’syourfatherdoingoverthere?Don’ttellmehe’s afterhiringnewstaff.Halfthecountrytakingthe emigrantshipandEddieHogandecidestoexpand.’
DessieBurnshadsmallpiggyeyes.Helookedacross thestreettowardsHogan’sGentleman’sOutfitterswith hugeunconcealedinterest.Herfatherwasshakinghands withaman–oraboy,itwashardtosee.Helooked aboutseventeen,Bennythought,thinandpale.Hehada suitcaseinhishand.Hewaslookingupatthesignover thedoor.
‘Idon’tknowanythingaboutit,MrBurns,’shesaid.
‘Goodgirl,keepyourmindoutofbusiness,letmetell youit’saheartscald.IfIwereawomanIwouldn’thave theslightestinterestiniteither.I’djustgetmyselfafine eejitofamantokeepmeinbarleysugarallday.’
Bennywentondownthestreet,pasttheemptyshop whichpeoplesaidthatarealItalianfromItalywasgoing toopenup.Shepassedthecobbler’sshopwherePaccy MooreandhissisterBeewavedouttoher.Paccyhada twistedleg.Hedidn’tgotoMass,butitwassaidthatthe
priestscamedowntohimonceamonthandheardhis confessionandgavehimHolyCommunion.Bennyhad heardthattheyhadsenttoDublinandmaybeevenRome forhimtohaveadispensation,anditwasn’taquestionof hisbeingasinneroroutsidetheChurchoranything.And thenshewashometoLisbeg.Thenewdogwhichwashalf collie,halfsheepdog,satsleepilyonthesteplovingthe Septembersunshine.
Throughthewindowshecouldseethetablesetforthe party.Patsyhadcleanedthebrassesspecially,andMother hadtidiedupthefrontgarden.Bennyswallowedthe barleysugarratherthanbeaccusedofeatingsweetsinthe publicview,andletherselfintheback.
‘Notawordoutofthatdogtoletmeknowyouwere coming,’hermothersaidcrossly.
‘Heshouldn’tbarkatme,I’mfamily,’Bennydefended him.
‘ThedayShepbarksforanythingexcepthisown amusementthere’llbewhiteblackbirds.Tellmedidyou haveanicedayatschool,didtheymakeafussofyou?’
‘Theydid,Mother.’
‘That’sgood.Welltheywon’tknowyouwhentheysee youthisafternoon.’
Benny’sheartsoared.‘WillIbegettingdressed,likein anythingnew,beforetheparty?’
‘Ithinkso.Ithinkwe’llhaveyoulookinglikethebee’s kneesbeforetheycomein.’
‘WillIputitonnow?’
‘Whynot?’Benny’smotherseemedexcitedaboutseeing
thenewoutfitherself.‘I’lljustlayitoutforyouabove. Comeupandgiveyourselfabitofawashandwe’llputit on.’
Bennystoodpatientlyinthebigbathroomwhilethe backofherneckwaswashed.Itwouldn’tbelongnow. Thenshewasledintoherbedroom.
‘Closeyoureyes,’saidMother.
WhenBennyopenedthemshesawonthebedathick navyskirt,aFairIslejumperinnavyandred.Abigsturdy pairofnavyshoeslayintheirboxandchunkywhitesocks foldedniceandneatlybesidethem.Peepingoutoftissue paperwasasmallredshoulderbag.
‘It’sanentireoutfit,’criedMother.‘Dressedfromhead tofootbyPeggyPine...’
Motherstoodbacktoseetheeffectofthegift.
Bennywaswordless.Novelvetdress,nolovelysoft crushedvelvetthatyoucouldstroke,withitsbeautiful lacytrim.Onlyhorribleharshroughthingslikehorsehair. Nothinginamistypink,butinsteadgoodplainsensible colours.Andtheshoes!Wherewerethepumpswiththe pointedtoes?
Bennybitherlipandwilledthetearsbackintohereyes.
‘Well,whatdoyouthink?’Hermotherwasbeaming proudly.‘Yourfathersaidyoumusthavethehandbagand theshoesaswell,itwouldmakeitarealoutfit.Hesaid thatgoingintodoublefiguresmustbemarked.’
‘It’slovely,’Bennymuttered.
‘Isn’tthejumperperfect?I’dbeenaskingPeggytoget somethinglikethatforages.IsaidIdidn’twantanything
shoddy...somethingstrongthatwouldstanduptoabit ofroughandtumble.’
‘It’sgorgeous,’Bennysaid.
‘Feelit,’hermotherurged.
Shedidn’twantto.Notwhileshestillhadthevelvetfeel inhermind.
‘I’llputitonmyself,Mother,thenI’llcomeandshow you,’shesaid.
Shewasholdingonbyathread.
Fortunately,AnnabelHoganneededtogoandsupervise theshakingofhundredsandthousandsonthetrifle.She wasjustheadingoffdownstairswhenthetelephonerang. ‘That’llbeyourfather.’Shesoundedpleasedandherstep wasquickeronthestair.
Throughhersobswhichshechokedintothepillow, Bennyheardsnatchesoftheconversation.
‘Shelovedit,Eddie,youknowIthinkitwasalmosttoo muchforher,shecouldn’tseemtotakeitallin, so many things,abagandshoes,andsocks,ontopofeverything. Achildofthatageisn’tusedtogettingallthatmuchat once.No,notyet,she’sputtingiton.It’lllookfineonher ...’
SlowlyBennygotoffherbedandwentovertothe mirroronthewardrobetoseeifherfacelookedasredand tearstainedasshefeared.Shesawthechunkyfigureofa childinvestandknickers,neckredfromscrubbing,eyes redfromweeping.Shewasnotapersonthatanyone wouldeverdreamofputtinginapinkvelvetdressand littlepumpswithpointedtoes.Fornoreasonatallshe
rememberedEveMalone.Sherememberedhersmall earnestfacewarninghernottothinkaboutthedressfrom Dublintoomuch.
PerhapsEveknewallthetime,maybeshehadbeenin theshopwhenMotherwasbuyingallthis...allthis horriblestuff.HowawfulthatEveknewbeforeshedid. AndyetEvehadneverhadanythingnew,sheknewthat whateverdress she gotfortodaywouldbeareject.She rememberedthewayEvehadsaid‘Theygotyou somethingnewanyway’.Shewouldneverletthemguess howdisappointedshewas.Never.
Therestofthedaywasn’tverycleartoBennybecauseof theheavycloudofdisappointmentthatseemedtohang overthewholeproceedings.Forheranyway.Sherememberedmakingtherightsoundsandmovinglikeapuppet asthepartybegan.MaireCarrollarrivedwearingaproper partydress.Ithadanunderskirtthatrustled.Ithadcome fromAmericainaparcel.
Thereweregameswithaprizeforeveryone.Benny’s motherhadboughtconesofsweetsinBirdieMac’sshop, eachonewrappedindifferent-colouredpaper.Theywere allgettingnoisybutthecakehadtobedelayeduntilMr Hoganreturnedfromtheshop.
Theyheardtheangelusringing.Thedeepsoundofthe bellsrolledthroughKnockglentwiceaday,atnoonandat sixintheevening,greattimekeepersasmuchasreminders topray.ButtherewasnosignofBenny’sfather.
‘Ihopehewasn’tdelayedrameishingonwithsome
customertodayofalldays,’Bennyheardhermothersay toPatsy.
‘Notatall,Mam.Hemustbeonhisway.Shepgotup andgavehimselfagoodstretch.It’salwaysasignthatthe masterisheadinghometous.’
Andindeedhewas.HalfaminutelaterBenny’sfather cameinfullofanxiety.
‘Ihaven’tmissedit,we’renottoolate?’
Hewaspatteddownandgivenacupofteaanda sausagerolltobolsterhimupwhilethechildrenwere gatheredandtheroomdarkenedinanticipation.
Bennytriednottofeeltheroughwoolofthejumperat herneck.Shetriedtosmilearealsmileatherfather,who hadrundownthetowntobehereforthebigmoment.
‘Doyoulikeyouroutfit...yourfirstentireoutfit?’he calledovertoher.
‘It’slovely,Father,lovely.DoyouseeI’mwearingit all.’
TheotherchildreninKnockglenusedtogiggleatBenny forsaying‘Father’.TheyusedtocalltheirfathersDaddy orDa.Butbynowtheywereusedtoit.Itwaspartofthe waythingswere.Bennywastheonlyonetheyknew withoutbrothersandsisters,mostofthemhadtosharea MamandaDadwithfiveorsixothers.Anonlychildwas arareoccurrence.Infacttheydidn’tknowany,exceptfor Benny.AndEveMaloneofcourse.Butthatwasdifferent. Shehadnofamilyatall.
EvewasstandingnearBennyasthecakecamein. ‘Imaginethat’sallforyou,’shewhisperedinawe.
Eveworeadressthatwasseveralsizestoobigforher. SisterImelda,theonlynunintheconventwhowasgood withtheneedle,hadbeeninhersickbedsoaverypoor jobhadbeendoneontakingupthehem.Therestofit hungaroundherlikeacurtain.
Theonlythinginitsfavourwasthatitwasredand obviouslynew.Therewasnowaythatitcouldbeadmired orpraised,butEveMaloneseemedtohaverisenabove this.Somethingaboutthewayshestoodinthelarge unwieldygarmentgaveBennycourage.Atleasther horribleoutfitfittedher,andthoughitwasfarfrombeing apartydress,letalonethedressofherdreams,itwas reasonable,unlikeEve’s.Sheputhershouldersbackand smiledsuddenlyatthesmallergirl.
‘I’llgiveyousomeofthecaketotakebackifthere’sany leftover,’shesaid.
‘Thanks.MotherFrancislovesasliceofcake,’Evesaid. Thenitwasthere,theblurrylightofthecandlesandthe singingHappyBirthdayandthebigwhoosh...andthe clapping,andwhenthecurtainswereopenagainBenny sawthethinyoungmanthatherfatherhadbeenshaking handswith.Hewasfartoooldfortheparty.Theymust havebroughthimbacktoteawiththegrown-upswho wouldcomelater.Hewasverythinandpale,andhehad acoldhardstareinhiseyes.
‘Whowashe?’EveaskedBennyonMonday.
‘He’sthenewassistantcometoworkwithmyfatherin theshop.’
‘He’sawful,isn’the?’
Theywerefriendsnow,sittingonaschoolyardwall togetheratbreak.
‘Yes,heis.There’ssomethingwrongwithhiseyes,I think.’
‘What’shisname?’Eveasked. ‘Sean.SeanWalsh.He’sgoingtoliveintheshop.’
‘Ugh!’saidEve.‘Willhegotoyourhouseformeals?’
‘No,that’sthegreatthing.Hewon’t.Motheraskedhim tocometoSundaylunchandhemadesomeawfulspeech aboutnotassuming,orsomething.’
‘Presuming.’
‘Yes,wellwhateveritishe’snotgoingtodoitandit seemstomeancomingtomeals.He’llfendforhimselfhe said.’
‘Good.’Eveapprovedofthat.
Bennyspokehesitantly.‘Mothersaid...’ ‘Yes?’
‘Ifyou’dliketocomeanytime...thatwouldbe...it wouldbeallright.’
Bennyspokegrufflyasiffearingtheinvitationwouldbe spurned.
‘Oh,I’dlikethat,’Evesaid.
‘Liketoteaonanordinaryday,ormaybemidday dinneronaSaturdayorSunday.’
‘I’dloveSunday.It’sabitquiethereonSundays,alot ofpraying,yousee.’
‘Right,I’lltellher.’Benny’sbrowhadcleared.
‘Oh,thereisonethingthough...’
‘Whatisit?’Bennydidn’tliketheintenselookonEve’s face.
‘Iwon’tbeabletoaskyouback.WheretheyeatandI eat,it’sbeyondthecurtain,yousee.’
‘Thatdoesn’tmatteratall.’Bennywasrelievedthatthis wastheonlyobstacle.
‘Ofcourse,whenI’mgrownupandhavemyownplace, youknow,mycottage,Icouldaskyouthere,’Evesaid earnestly.
‘Isitreallyyourcottage?’
‘Itoldeveryone.’Evewasbelligerent.
‘Ithoughtitmightonlybeapretendcottage,’Benny saidapologetically.
‘Howcoulditbepretend?It’smine.Iwasbornthere.It belongedtomymotherandmyfather.They’rebothdead, it’smine.’
‘Whycan’tyougotherenow?’
‘Idon’tknow.TheythinkI’mtooyoungtoliveonmy own.’
‘Well,ofcourseyou’retooyoungtoliveonyourown,’ Bennysaid.‘Buttovisit?’
‘MotherFrancissaiditwassortofserious,myown place,myinheritanceshecallsit.ShesaysIshouldn’tbe treatingitasadoll’shouse,aplayingplacewhenI’m young.’
Theythoughtaboutitforawhile.
‘Maybeshe’sright,’Bennysaidgrudgingly.
‘Shecouldbe.’
‘Haveyoulookedinthewindows?’
‘Yes.’
‘Nobody’sgoneandmesseditalluponyou?’
‘No,nobodygoesthereatall.’
‘Why’sthat?It’sgotalovelyviewdownoverthe quarry.’
‘They’reafraidtogothere.Peoplediedthere.’ ‘Peopledieeverywhere.’Bennyshrugged.
ThispleasedEve.‘That’strue.Ihadn’tthoughtofthat.’ ‘Sowhodiedinthecottage?’
‘Mymother.Andthenabitlatermyfather.’ ‘Oh.’
Bennydidn’tknowwhattosay.Thiswasthefirsttime Evehadevertalkedaboutherlife.Usuallysheflashed backwithaMindYourOwnBusiness,ifanyoneaskedher aquestion.
‘Butthey’renotinthecottage,they’reinHeavennow,’ Bennysaideventually.
‘Yes,ofcourse.’
Thereseemedtobeanotherimpasse.
‘I’dlovetogoandlookthroughthewindowwithyou sometime,’Bennyoffered. EvewasabouttoreplywhenMaireCarrollcameby.
‘Thatwasaniceparty,Benny,’shesaid. ‘Thanks.’
‘Ididn’tknowitwasmeanttobefancydressthough.’ ‘Whatdoyoumean?’Bennyasked.
‘Well,Evewasinfancydress,weren’tyou,Eve?Imean thatbigredthing,thatwasn’tmeanttobeordinary clothes,wasit?’
Eve’sfacetightenedintothathardlookthatsheused tohavebefore.Bennyhatedtoseetheexpressioncome back.
‘Ithoughtitwasquitefunnymyself,’Mairesaidwitha littlelaugh.‘Wealldidwhenwewerecominghome.’
Bennylookedaroundtheschoolyard.MotherFrancis waslookingtheotherway.
WithallherstrengthBennyHoganlaunchedherselfoff thewalldownonMaireCarroll.Thegirlfellover, winded.
‘Areyouallright,Maire?’Bennyaskedinafalsely sympathetictone.
MotherFranciscamerunning,herhabitstreaming behindher.
‘Whathappened,child?’Shewasstrugglingtoget Maire’sbreathback,andraisehertoherfeet.
‘Bennypushedme...’Mairegasped.
‘Mother,I’msorry,I’msoclumsy,Iwasjustgettingoff thewall.’
‘Allright,allright,nobonesbroken.Getherastool.’
MotherFrancisdealtwiththepantingMaire. ‘Shediditpurposely.’
‘Shush,shush,Maire.Here’salittlestoolforyou,sit downnow.’
Mairewascrying.‘Mother,shejustjumpeddown fromthewallonmelikeatonofbricks...Iwasonly saying...’
‘Mairewastellingmehowmuchshelikedtheparty, Mother.I’msosorry,’Bennysaid.
‘Yes,wellBenny,trytobemorecareful.Don’tthrow yourselfaroundsomuch.Now,Maire,enoughofthis whining.It’snotabitnice.Bennyhassaidshewassorry. Youknowitwasanaccident.Comealongnowandbea biggirl.’
‘I’dneverwanttobeasbigagirlasBennyHogan.No onewould.’
MotherFranciswascrossnow.‘That’squiteenough, MaireCarroll.Quiteenough.Takethatstoolandgo insidetothecloakroomandsitthereuntilyou’recalledby metocomeawayfromit.’
MotherFrancissweptaway.Andastheyallknewshe would,sherangthebellfortheendofbreak.
EvelookedatBenny.Foramomentshesaidnothing, shejustswallowedasiftherewerealumpinherthroat.
Bennywasequallyataloss,shejustshruggedand spreadoutherhandshelplessly.
SuddenlyEvegraspedherhand.‘Someday,whenI’m bigandstrong,I’llknocksomeonedownforyou,’she said.‘Imeanit,Ireallywill.’
‘TellmeaboutEve’smotherandfather,’Bennyaskedthat night.
‘Ah,that’salllongagonow,’herfathersaid. ‘ButIdon’tknowit.Iwasn’tthere.’
‘Nopointinrakingoverallthat.’
‘She’smyfriend.Iwanttoknowabouther.’
‘Sheusednottobeyourfriend.Ihadtopleadwithyou tolethercometotheparty,’Mothersaid.
‘No,that’snotthewayitwas.’Bennycouldn’tbelieve nowthatthiswasso.
‘I’mgladthatchild’scomingheretodinneronSunday,’ EddieHogansaid.‘Iwishwecouldpersuadethatyoung skinnymalinksaboveintheshoptocometoo,buthe’s determinednottotrespass,ashecallsit.’ Bennywaspleasedtohearthat.
‘Isheworkingoutwell,Eddie?’
‘Thebestyoueversaw,love.We’llbeblessedwithhim, Itellyou.He’ssoeagertolearnhealmostquiverslike Shepthere,herepeatseverythingoverandoveragain,as ifhe’slearningitoffbyheart.’
‘DoesMikelikehim?’Benny’smotherwantedtoknow.
‘Ah,youknowMike,helikesnobody.’
‘Whatdoesheobjectto?’
‘ThewaySeankeepsthebooks.God,it’ssimpleto understand,achildcoulddoit,butoldMikehastoputup aresistancetoeverything.Mikesaysheknowseveryone’s measurements,andwhattheypaidandwhattheyowed. Hethinksit’slikeakindofinsulttohispowerstowrite thingsdown.’
‘Couldn’tyoukeepthebooks,Mother?’Benny suggestedsuddenly.
‘No,no,I’dnotbeableto.’
‘Butifit’sassimpleasFathersays...’
‘She’dwellbeabletobutyourmotherhastobehere, thisisourhome,sherunsitforyouandme,Benny.’
‘Patsycouldrunit.Thenyouwouldn’thavetopay Sean.’
‘Nonsense,Benny,’herfathersaid. Butshewasn’ttobestopped.‘Whynot?Mikewould likeMotherbeinginthere.MikelovesMother,andit wouldbesomethingforMothertodoallday.’
Theybothlaughed.
‘Isn’titgreattobeachild?’saidherfather. ‘Tothinkthatthedayisn’tfullalready,’agreedher mother.
Bennyknewverywellthathermother’sdaywasfar fromfull.ShethoughtthatitmightbeniceforMotherto beinvolvedintheshop,butobviouslytheyweren’tgoing tolistentoher.
‘HowdidEve’sparentsdie?’sheasked.
‘It’snotathingtobetalkingabout.’ ‘Why?Weretheymurdered?’
‘Ofcoursenot.’Hermothersoundedimpatient. ‘Whythen...?’
‘Lord,why,why,why,’herfathersighed.
‘Atschoolthey’realwaystellingustoaskwhy.Mother Francissaysthatifyouhaveaquestioningmindyougetto knowalltheanswers.’Bennywastriumphant.
‘Hermotherdiedgivingbirth,whenEvewasbeing born.Andthenabitlater,herpoorfather,maytheLord havemercyonhim,wentoutoneeveningwithhiswits scatteredandfelloverthecliffintothequarry.’
‘Wasn’tthatdesperate!’Benny’seyeswereroundwith horror.
‘So,it’sasadstory,alloverlongago,nearlytenyears ago.Wedon’tstartbringingitallupoverandover.’
‘Butthere’smoretoit,isn’tthere...there’sakindof secret.’
‘Notreally.’Herfather’seyeswerehonest.‘Hermother wasaverywealthywoman,andherfatherwasakindof handymanwhohelpedoutintheconvent,anddidabitof workupatWestlands.Thatcausedabitoftalkatthe time.’
‘Butit’snotasecretorascandaloranything.’Annabel Hogan’sfacewassetinwarninglines.‘Theyweremarried andeverythingintheCatholicChurch.’
Bennycouldseetheshutterscomingdown.Sheknew whentoleavethings.
LatersheaskedPatsy.
‘Don’taskmethingsbehindyourparents’back.’
‘I’mnot.Iaskedthem,andthisiswhattheytoldme.I justwantedtoknowdidyouknowanymore.That’sall.’
‘ItwasbeforeIcamehere,butIheardabitfromBee Moore...Paccy’ssister,sheworksaboveinWestlands yousee.’
‘Whatdidyouhear?’
‘ThatEve’sfatherdidaterribleactatthefuneral, cursingandshouting...’
‘Upinthechurch,cursingandshouting...!’
‘Not our church,nottherealchurch,intheProtestant church,butthatwasbadenough.YouseeEve’smother wasfromWestlands–fromthebighousebeyond.Shewas oneofthefamilyandpoorJack,thatwasthefather,he thoughtthey’dalltreatedherbadly...’
‘Goon.’
‘That’sallIknow,’Patsysaid.‘Anddon’tbeaskingthat poorchildandupsettingher.Peoplewithnoparentsdon’t likeendlessquestions.’
BennytookthisasgoodadvicenotonlyaboutEve,but aboutPatsyherself.
MotherFranciswasdelightedtoseethenewfriendship developing,butfartoooldahandindealingwithchildren tosayso.
‘GoingdowntotheHogansagainareyou?’shesaid, soundingslightlyputout.
‘Doyoumind?’Eveasked.
‘No,Idon’tmind.Ican’tsaythatImind.’Thenuntried hardtoconcealherenthusiasm.
‘It’snotthatIwanttobeawayfromhere,’Evesaid earnestly.
MotherFrancisfeltanurgetotakethechildinherarms assheusedtodowhenEvewasababygivenintotheir carebytheaccidentofherbirth.
‘No,no,ofcourse,child.Strangethoughthisplaceis,it isyourhome.’
‘It’salwaysbeenalovelyhome.’
Thenun’seyesfilledwithtears.‘Everyconventshould haveachild.Idon’tknowhowwe’regoingtoarrangeit,’ shesaidlightly.
‘Iwasn’tanuisancewhenIarrived?’
‘Youwereablessing,youknowthat.It’sbeenthebest tenyearsStMary’severhad...youbeinghere.’
MotherFrancisstoodatawindowandwatchedlittle
EvegodownthelongavenueoftheconventouttoSunday lunchonherownwiththeHogans.Sheprayedthatthey wouldbekindtoher,andthatBennywouldn’tchangeand findanewfriend.
SherememberedthefightsshehadhadtokeepEvein thefirstplace,whensomanyothersolutionswerebeing offered.TherewasacousinoftheWestwardsinEngland whowouldtakethechild,someonewhowouldarrange RomanCatholicinstructiononceaweek.TheHealyswho hadcometostartthehotelwerereportedtobehaving difficultyinstartingafamily.Theywouldbehappyto haveEveintheirhome,evenaftertheirownchildrencame along,iftheydid.ButMotherFrancishadfoughtlikea tigerforthatsmallbundlethatshehadrescuedfromthe cottage,onthedayshewasborn.Thechildtheyhad reareduntilsomesolutioncouldbefound.Nobodyhad seenthatJackMalone’ssolutionwouldinvolvethrowing himselfoverthequarryonedarknight.Afterthatthere hadbeennoonewithbetterclaimtoEvethanthenuns whohadrearedher.
ItwasthefirstofmanySundaydinnersinLisbegforEve. Shelovedcomingtothehouse.Everyweekshebrought somethingwhichshearrangedinavase.MotherFrancis hadshownherhowtogoupthelongwindypathbehind theconventandpickleavesandwildflowers.Atthestart shewouldrehearsearrangingthemwiththenunsothat shewoulddoitwellwhenshegottotheHogans,butas theweekswentbyshegrewinconfidence.Shecouldbring
armfulsofautumncoloursandmakeabeautifuldisplay onthehalltable.Itbecamearitual.Patsywouldhavethe vasesreadytoseewhatEvewouldbringtoday.
‘Don’tyouhavealovelyhouse!’shewouldsaywistfully andAnnabelHoganwouldsmile,pleased,and congratulateherselfonhavingbroughtthesetwotogether.
‘HowdidyoumeetMrsHogan?’shewouldaskBenny’s father.And‘Didyoualwayswanttorunabusiness?’The kindofquestionsBennyneverthoughttoaskbutwas alwaysinterestedintheanswers.
Shehadneverknownthatherparentsmetatatennis partyinacountyfaraway.Shehadneverheardthat Fatherhadbeenapprenticedtoanotherbusinessinthe townofBallylee.OrthatMotherhadgonetoBelgiumfor ayearaftersheleftschooltoteachEnglishinaconvent.
‘Youmakemyparentssayveryinterestingthings,’she saidtoEveoneafternoonastheysatinBenny’sbedroom, andEvemarvelledoverbeingallowedtouseanelectric fireallforthemselves.
‘Well,they’vegotgreatstorieslikeoldentimes.’
‘Yes...’Bennywasdoubtful.
‘Yousee,thenunsdon’thave.’
‘Theymusthave.Surely.Theycan’thaveforgotten,’ Bennysaid.
‘Butthey’renotmeanttothinkaboutthepast,you know,andlifebeforeEntering,theyreallystartfromwhen theybecameBridesofChrist.Theydon’thavestoriesof oldendayslikeyourmotherandfatherdo.’
‘Wouldtheylikeyoutobeanuntoo?’Bennyasked.
‘No,MotherFrancissaidthattheywouldn’ttakeme, evenifIdidwanttobeanun,untilIwasovertwentyone.’
‘Why’sthat?’
‘Shesaysit’stheonlylifeIknow,andImightwantto joinjustbecauseofthat.ShesayswhenIleaveschoolI havetogooutandgetajobforatleastthreeyearsbefore IeventhinkofEntering.’
‘Wasn’titluckyyoumetupwiththem?’Bennysaid.
‘Yes.Yes,itwas.’
‘Idon’tmeanluckythatyourmotherandfatherdied, butiftheyhadtowasn’titgreatyoudidn’tgosomewhere awful?’
‘Likeinstorieswithwickedstepmothers,’Eveagreed. ‘Iwonderwhytheygotyou.Nunsusuallydon’tget childrenunlessit’sanorphanage.’
‘Myfatherworkedforthem.Theysenthimupto Westlandstoearnsomemoneybecausetheycouldn’tpay himmuch.That’swherehemetmymother.Theyfeel responsible,Ithink.’
Bennywasdyingtoknowmore.Butsheremembered Patsy’sadvice.
‘Well,itallturnedoutfine,they’remadaboutyouup there.’
‘Yourparentsaremadaboutyoutoo.’
‘It’sabithardsometimes,likeifyouwanttowander off.’
‘Itisformetoo,’Evesaid.‘Notmuchwanderingoff aboveintheconvent.’
‘It’llbedifferentwhenwe’reolder.’ ‘Itmightn’tbe,’Evesaidsagely.
‘Whatdoyoumean?’
‘Imean,wehavetoshowthemwe’reterribly trustworthyorsomething,showthemthatifwe are allowedtowanderoff,we’llwanderbackingoodtime.’ ‘Howcouldweshowthem?’Bennywaseager.
‘Idon’tknow.Somethingsimpleatthestart.Couldyou askmetostaythenighthere,foronething?’
‘OfcourseIcould.’
‘ThenIcouldshowMotherFrancisthatI’dbebackup intheconventintimeforMassinthechapel,andshe’dget toknowIwastobereliedon.’
‘Massonaweekday?’
‘Everyday.Atseven.’
‘No!’
‘It’squitenice.Thenunssingbeautifully,it’sniceand peaceful.ReallyIdon’tmindit.FatherRosscomesin speciallyandhegetsalovelybreakfastintheparlour.He saystheotherpriestsenvyhim.’
‘Ididn’tknowthat...everyday.’
‘Youwon’ttellanyonewillyou?’
‘No.Isitasecret?’
‘Notabit,it’sjustthatI don’t tellanything,yousee, andtheCommunitylikesthat,theyfeelI’mpartofthem. Ididn’thaveafriendbefore.Therewasn’tanyonetotell.’ Bennysmiledfromeartoear.‘Whatnightwillyou come?Wednesdaynight?’
‘Idon’tknow,Eve.Youdon’thaveanysmartpyjamasor anythingtobegoingtostaywithpeople.Youdon’thave agoodspongebag,thingsthatpeoplewhogovisiting need.’
‘Mypyjamasarefine,Mother.’
‘Youcouldironthem,certainly,andyouhavea dressinggown.’Sheseemedtobefaltering.‘Aspongebag though?’
‘CouldSisterImeldamakeoneforme?I’lldoextra clearingupforher.’
‘Andwhattimewillyoucomeback?’
‘I’llbeatmyprie-dieuintimeforMass,Mother.’
‘Youwon’twanttogetupthatearlyifyou’revisiting people.’MotherFrancis’sfacewassoft.
‘That’swhatI’dwant,Mother.’
Itwasagreatevening.TheyplayedrummywithPatsyin thekitchenforalongtimebecauseMotherandFather wentacrosstheroadtoDrandMrsJohnson’shouse.It wasasuppertocelebratethechristeningoftheirnew baby.
EveaskedPatsyallabouttheorphanage,andPatsytold moredetailsthanshehadevertoldBenny.Sheexplained howtheyusedtostealfood,andhowharditwaswhen shecametotheHogans,herfirstjob,torealiseshedidn’t havetotakeanystraybiscuitorafistfulofsugarandput itintoherapron.
InbedthatnightBennysaidinwonder,‘Idon’tknow whyPatsytoldusallthat.Onlytheotherdayshewas
sayingtomethatpeoplewithnoparentsdidn’tlikebeing askedquestions.’
‘Ah,it’sdifferentwithme,’Evesaid.‘I’minthesame boat.’
‘Noyou’renot!’Bennywasindignant.‘Patsyhad nothing.Shehadtoworkinthatawfulplaceandgetnits andstealandbebeatenforwettingthebed.Shehadto leavethereatfifteenandcomehere.It’snotabitlikeyou.’
‘No.Wearethesame,shehasnofamily,Idon’t.She didn’thaveahomelikeyoudo.’
‘Isthatwhyyoutoldhermorethanyoutoldme?’ Bennyhadbeenevenmoreastoundedatthequestions Patsyfeltfreetoask.DidEvehatetheWestwardswho weresorichfornottakingherintothebighouse?Eve didn’t,theycouldn’t,theywereProtestants,sheexplained. Lotsmore,thingsBennywouldn’thavedaredtoask.
‘Youdon’taskthingslikethat,’Evesaidsimply.
‘I’dbeafraidofupsettingyou,’Bennysaid.
‘Youcouldn’tupsetafriend,’Evesaid.
BennyandEve,whohadlivedalltheirlivesinthesame village,wereeachamazedatthethingstheotherdidn’t knowaboutKnockglen.
Bennydidn’tknowthatthethreepriestswholivedin thepresbyteryhadbeengiventhegameofScrabble,which theyplayedeverynight,andsometimesrangtheconvent toaskMotherFrancisquestionslikehowyouspelt ‘quixotic’becauseFatherO’Brienwasgoingtogetatriple wordscore.
Evehadn’tknownthatMrBurnsinthehardwareshop wasinclinedtotaketothedrinkorthatDrJohnsonhada verybadtemperandwasheardshoutingaboutGodnever puttingamouthintotheworldthathedidn’tfeed.Dr Johnsonwasoftheviewthattherewerealotofmouths, especiallyinthefamilieswiththirteenchildren,thatGod hadforgottentofeed.
Bennydidn’tknowthatPeggyPinewasanoldfriendof MotherFrancis,thattheyhadbeengirlsyearsagoand thatwhenshecametotheconventshecalledMother FrancisBunty.
Evehadn’tknownthatBirdieMacwhoranthesweet shophadamanfromBallyleewhohadbeencallingfor fifteenyears,butshewouldn’tleaveheroldmotherand themanfromBallyleewouldn’tcometoKnockglen.
Itmadethetownfarmoreinterestingtobothofthem tohavesuchinsights.Particularlybecausetheyknewthese weredarksecretsnottobesharedwithanyone.They pooledtheirknowledgeonhowchildrenwereborn,and hadn’tanynewenlightenmentstooffer.Theybothknew thattheycameoutlikekittens,theydidn’tknowhowthey gotin.
‘It’sgotsomethingtodowithlyingdownonebesidethe other,whenyou’remarried,’Evesaid.
‘Itcouldn’thappenifyouweren’tmarried.Supposeyou felldownbesidesomeonelikeDessieBurns.’Bennywas worried.
‘No,youhavetobemarried.’Eveknewthatforcertain. ‘Andhowwoulditgetin?’Itwasamystery.
‘ItcouldbeyourLittleMary,’Bennysaidthoughtfully. ‘What’syourLittleMary?’
‘Thebitinthemiddleofyourtummy.’
‘Oh,yourtummybuttoniswhatMotherFranciscalls it.’
‘Thatmustbeit,’Bennycriedtriumphantly.‘Iftheyall havedifferentnamesforit,thatmustbethesecret.’
Theypractisedhardatbeingreliable.Ifeithersaidshe wouldbehomeatsixo’clockthenfiveminutesbeforethe hourstruckandtheangelusrangshewouldbebackin place.AsEvehadanticipated,itdidwinthemmuchmore freedom.Theydidn’tallowtheirhystericallaughingfitsto beseeninpublic.
TheypressedtheirnosesagainstthewindowofHealy’s Hotel.Theydidn’tlikeMrsHealy.Shewasverysuperior. Shewalkedasifshewereaqueen.Shealwaysseemedto lookdownonchildren.
BennyheardfromPatsythattheHealyshadbeenupto Dublintolookforachildtoadoptbuttheyhadn’tgotone becauseMrHealyhadaweakchest.
‘Justaswell,’Evehadsaidunsympathetically.‘They’d beterribleforanyoneasamotherandfather.’Shespoke ininnocenceofthefactthatKnockglenhadoncethought thatsheherselfmightbetheidealchildforthem.
MrHealywasmucholderthanhiswife.Itwas whispered,Patsysaid,thathecouldn’tcutthemustard.Eve andBennyspentlonghourstryingtoworkoutwhatthis couldmean.Mustardcameinasmalltinandyoumixedit withwater.Howdidyoucutit?Whyshouldyoucutit?
MrsHealylookedahundredbutapparentlyshewas twenty-seven.Shehadmarriedatseventeenandwasbusy throwingallhereffortsintothehotelsincetherewereno children.
Togethertheyexploredplaceswheretheyhadnever gonealone.ToFlood’s,thebutchers,hopingtheymight seetheanimalsbeingkilled.
‘Wedon’treallywanttoseethembeingkilleddowe?’ Bennyaskedfearfully.
‘No,butwe’dliketobethereatthebeginningsothat wecouldifwewantto,thenrunaway,’Eveexplained.Mr Floodwouldn’tletthemnearhisyardsothematterdidn’t arise.
TheystoodandwatchedtheItalianfromItalycomeand startuphisfishandchipshop.
‘Weelyouleetlegirlscomehereeverydayandbuy myfeesh?’heaskedhopefullyofthetwoearnest children,onebig,onesmall,whostoodwatchinghis everymove.
‘No,Idon’tthinkwe’llbeallowed,’Evesaidsadly.
‘Whyisthat?’
‘Itwouldbecalledthrowingawaygoodmoney,’Benny said.
‘Andtalkingtoforeign men,’Eveexplainedtoclinch matters.
‘MyseesterismarriedtoaDublinman,’Mario explained.
‘We’llletpeopleknow,’Evesaidsolemnly.
Sometimestheywenttotheharnessmaker.Avery handsomemanonahorsecameonedaytoenquireabout abridlethatshouldhavebeenready,butwasn’t.
DekkoMoorewasacousinofPaccyMoore’sinthe shoeshop.Hewasveryapologetic,andlookedasifhe mightbetakenawayandhangedforthedelay.
Themanturnedhishorseswiftly.‘Allright.Willyou bringituptothehousetomorrow,instead?’heshouted.
‘IndeedIwillsir,thankyousir.I’mverysorrysir. Indeedsir.’DekkoMooresoundedlikeavillainwhohad beenunmaskedinapantomime.
‘Lord,whowasthat,Iwonder?’Bennywasamazed. Dekkowasalmostdeadwithreliefathowlightlyhehad escaped.
‘ThatwasMrSimonWestward,’Dekkosaid,mopping hisbrow.
‘Ithoughtitmustbe,’Evesaidgrimly.
SometimestheywentintoHogan’sGentleman’s Outfitters.Fatheralwaysmadeahugefussofthem.Sodid oldMike,andanyoneelsewhohappenedtobeinthe shop.
‘Willyouworkherewhenyou’reold?’Evehad whispered.
‘Idon’tthinkso.It’llhavetobeaboy,won’tit?’
‘Idon’tseewhy,’Evehadsaid.
‘Well,measuringmen,puttingtapemeasuresround theirwaists,andall.’
Theygiggled.
‘Butyou’retheboss’sdaughter,youwouldn’tbedoing that.You’djustbecominginshoutingatpeople,likeMrs Healydoesoverinthehotel.’
‘Um.’Bennywasdoubtful.‘Wouldn’tIneedtoknow whattoshoutabout?’
‘Youcouldlearn.OtherwiseDroopyDrawerswilltake over.’
That’swhattheycalledSeanWalsh,whoseemedto havebecomepaler,thinnerandharderoftheeyesincehis arrival.
‘No,hewon’t,surely?’
‘Youcouldmarryhim.’
‘Ugh.Ugh.Ugh.’
‘Andhavelotsofchildrenbyputtingyourbellybutton besidehis.’
‘Oh,Eve,I’dhatethat.IthinkI’llbeanun.’
‘IthinkIwilltoo.Itwouldbemucheasier.Youcango anydayyoulike,luckyoldthing.IhavetowaituntilI’m twenty-one.’Evewasdisconsolate.
‘Maybeshe’dletyouenterwithme,ifsheknewitwas atruevocation.’Bennywashopeful.
Herfatherhadrunoutoftheshopandnowhewas backwithtwolollipops.Hehandedthemoneeach proudly.
‘We’rehonouredtohaveyouladiesinourhumble premises,’hesaid,sothateveryonecouldhearhim. SooneveryoneinKnockglenthoughtofthemasapair. ThebigstockyfigureofBennyHoganinherstrongshoes
andtightlybuttonedsensiblecoat,thewaif-likeEveinthe clothesthatwerealwaystoolongandstreelishonher. Togethertheywatchedthesettingupofthetown’sfirst fishandchipshop,theysawthedeclineofMrHealyinthe hotelandstoodsidebysideonthedaythathewastaken tothesanatorium.Togethertheywereunconquerable. Therewasneveranill-consideredremarkmadeabout eitherofthem.
WhenBirdieMacinthesweetshopwasunwiseenough tosaytoBennythatthoseslabsoftoffeeweredoingher nogoodatall,Eve’ssmallfaceflashedinafury.
‘Ifyouworrysomuchaboutthings,MissMac,then whydoyousellthematall?’sheaskedintonesthatknew therecouldbenoanswer.
WhenMaireCarroll’smothersaidthoughtfullytoEve, ‘DoyouknowIalwaysaskmyselfwhyasensiblewoman likeMotherFranciswouldletyououtonthestreet lookinglikeLittleOrphanAnnie,’Benny’sbrow darkened.
‘I’lltellMotherFrancisyouwantedtoknow,’Benny hadsaidquickly.‘MotherFrancissaysweshouldhave enquiringminds,thateveryoneshouldask.’
BeforeMrsCarrollcouldstopherBennyhadgalloped outoftheshopanduptheroadtowardstheconvent.
‘Oh,Mam,you’vedoneitnow,’MaireCarrollmoaned. ‘MotherFranciswillbedownonuslikeatonofbricks.’
Andshewas.Thefullfieryrageofthenunwas somethingthatMrsCarrollhadnotexpectedandnever wantedtoknowagain.
NoneofthesethingsupseteitherEveorBennyinthe slightest.ItwaseasytocopewithKnockglenwhenyou hadafriend.
1957
Therehadn’tbeenmanyteddyboysinKnockglen,infact noonecouldeverrememberhavingseenoneexcepton visitstoDublinwherethereweregroupsofthemhanging roundcorners.BennyandEvewereinthewindowof Healy’sHotelpractisinghavingcupsofcoffeesothatthey wouldlookwellaccustomedtoitwhentheygottothe Dublincoffeehouses.
Theysawhimpassby,jauntyandconfidentinhis drainpipetrousers,hislongjacketwithvelvetcuffsand collar.Hislegslookedlikespiderlegsandhisshoes seemedenormous.Heseemedobliviousofthestaresofthe wholetown.Onlywhenhesawthetwogirlsactually standinguptopeerathimpastthecurtainsofHealy’s windowdidheshowanyreaction.Hegavethemahuge grinandblewthemakiss.
Confusedandannoyedtheysatdownhastily.Itwas onethingtolook,anothertocallattentiontothemselves.
Makingashowofyourselfwashighonthelistofsinsin Knockglen.Bennyknewthisverywell.Anyonecouldhave beenlookingoutthewindowseeingthembeingcheap withtheteddyboy.Herfathermaybe,withthetape aroundhisneck,awfulsleeveenSeanWalsh,whonever saidawordwithoutthinkingcarefullyofthepossible effectitmighthave.Hecouldhavebeenlooking.Orold Mike,whohadcalledherfatherMrEddieforyears,and sawnoreasontochange.
AndindeedeveryoneinKnockglenknewEveaswell.It hadlongbeenthenuns’ambitionthatEveMalonebe thoughtofasalady.Shehadevenjoinedinthegame herself.Evedidn’twantittogetbacktotheconventthat shewastrickactinginHealy’sHotelandoglingteddy boysoutofthewindow.Whileothergirlswithreal mothersresistedalltheattemptstogentrifythemselves, EveandMotherFrancisstudiedbooksonetiquetteand lookedatmagazinestoseehownicepeopledressed,and topickupanyhintsonbehaviour.
‘Idon’twantyoutoputonanartificialaccent,’Mother Francishadwarned,‘nordoIwantyoustickingoutyour littlefingerwhenyou’redrinkingtea.’
‘Whoarewetryingtoimpress?’Evehadaskedonce.
‘No,lookatittheotherway.It’swhoyou’retryingnot toletdown.Weweretoldweweremadandwecouldn’t rearyou.It’sabitofhuman,non-saintlydesiretobeable tosay“Itoldyouso”tothebegrudgers.’
Evehadunderstoodthatimmediately.Andtherewas alwayshopethattheWestwardfamilywouldseeherone
dayasanelegantladyandbesorrytheyhadn’tkeptin touchwiththechildwhowasafteralltheirownfleshand blood.
MrsHealyapproachedthem.Awidownow,formidableasshehadalwaysbeen,shemanagedtoexude disapprovalatfiftyyards.Shecouldnotfindanyreason whyBennyHoganfromtheshopacrosstheroadandEve Malonefromtheconventupthetownshouldnotsitand drinkcoffeeinherbaywindow,butsomehowshewould havepreferredtokeepthespaceforwealthierandmore importantmatronsofKnockglen.
Shesailedtowardsthewindow.‘I’lladjustthecurtains –theyseemtohavegotallruckedup,’shesaid.
EveandBennyexchangedglances.Therewasnothing wrongwiththeheavynetcurtainsofHealy’sHotel.They wereastheyalwayswere: thickenoughtoconcealthose withinwhilegivingaperfectviewout.
‘Well,isn’tthataterriblepooribex!’exclaimedMrs Healy,havingidentifiedeasilywhatthegirlshadbeen lookingat.
‘Isupposeit’sonlyhisclothesreally,’Evesaidina sanctimonioustone.‘MotherFrancisalwayssaysit’sa pitytojudgepeoplebythegarmentstheywear.’
‘Veryadmirableofher,’snappedMrsHealy,‘butof courseshemakessurethatthegarmentsofallyoupupils areinorder.MotherFrancisisalwaysthefirsttojudge yougirlsbytheuniformsyouwear.’
‘Notanymore,MrsHealy,’Bennysaidhappily.‘Idyed mygreyschoolskirtdarkred.’
‘AndIdyedmineblack,andmygreyjumperpurple,’ Evesaid.
‘Verycolourful.’MrsHealymovedawaylikeaship underfullsail.
‘Shecan’tbearusbeinggrownup,’Evehissed.‘She wantstotellustositupstraightandnottoputourfingers onthenicefurniture.’
‘Sheknowswedon’tfeelgrownup,’Bennysaid gloomily.‘AndifawfulMrsHealyknowstheneveryonein Dublinwillknow.’
Itwasaproblem.MrFloodthebutcherhadlookedat themverystrangelyastheywalkedupthestreet.Hiseyes seemedtoburnthroughthemindisapproval.Ifpeoplelike thatcouldseetheirawkwardness,theywereindeedina badway.
‘Weshouldhavearehearsal–youknow,goupfora coupleofdaysaheadofeveryoneelsesowewon’tlook likeeejits.’Evewashopeful.
‘It’shardenoughtogetuptherewhenwehaveto. There’snopointinaskingtogoupthereinordertowaltz aroundabit.Canyouseethemagreeingtothatformeat home?’
‘Wewouldn’tcallitwaltzingaround,’Evesaid.‘We’d callitsomethingelse.’
‘Likewhat?’
Evethoughthard.‘Inyourcase,gettingbookslisted andtimetables–there’sendlessthingsyoucouldsay.’Her voicesoundedsuddenlysmallandsad.
ForthefirsttimeBennyrealisedproperlythattheywere
goingtoliveseparatelivesthoughinthesamecity.Best friendsfromtheageoften,nowtheywouldgodown differentroads.
BennywasgoingtobeabletogotoUniversityCollege, Dublin,tostudyforaBAdegreebecauseherparentshad savedtopayforher.TherewasnomoneyinStMary’s ConventtosendEveMalonetouniversity.MotherFrancis hadstrainedtheconvent’sfinancesalreadytoprovide secondaryeducationforthedaughterofJackMaloneand SarahWestward.Nowshewouldbesenttoaconventof thesameorderinDublinwhereshewoulddoasecretarial course.Hertuitionfeeswouldbewaivedinexchangefor somelighthousework.
‘IwishtoGodyouwerecomingtocollege,too,’Benny saidsuddenly.
‘Iknow.Don’tsayitlikethat,don’tletyourvoiceget drippyorI’llgetupset.’Evespokesharply,butwithout harshness.
‘Everyonekeepssayingthatit’sgreat,wehaveeach other,butI’dseemoreofyouifyouwerestillin Knockglen,’Bennycomplained.‘Yourplaceismilesacross thecity,andIhavetocomehomeonthebuseverynight, sothere’llbenomeetingintheevenings.’
‘Idon’tthinkthere’smuchofthenightlifeplannedfor meeither,’Evesaiddoubtfully.‘Afewmilesofconvent floortopolish,afewmillionsheetstohem.Acoupleof tonsofpotatoestopeel.’
‘Theywon’tmakeyoudothat!’Bennywashorrified.
‘Whoknowswhatlighthouseworkmeans?Onenun’s
lightcouldbeanothernun’spenalservitude.’
‘You’llneedtoknowinadvance,won’tyou?’Benny wasdistressedforherfriend.
‘I’mnotinmuchofapositiontonegotiate,’Evesaid. ‘Buttheyneveraskedyoutodoanythinglikethathere.’ Bennynoddedherheadupinthedirectionoftheconvent attheendofthetown.
‘Butthat’sdifferent.Thisismyhome,’Evesaidsimply. ‘Imean,thisiswhereIlive,whereI’llalwayslive.’
‘You’llbeabletogetaflatandallwhenyougetajob.’ Bennysoundedwistful.Shedidn’tthinkshewouldever seefreedom.
‘Ohyes,I’msureI’llgetaflat,butI’llcomebacktoSt Mary’s,likeotherpeoplecomehomefromflatson holidays,’Evesaid.
Evewasalwayssodefinite,Bennythoughtwith admiration.Sosmallanddeterminedwithhershortdark hairandwhiteelfinface.Noonehadeverdaredtosay thattherewasanythingdifferentorevenunusualabout Evelivingintheconvent,sharingherlifewiththe Community.Shewasneveraskedaboutwhatlifewaslike beyondthecurtainwherethenunswent,andshenever told.Thegirlsalsoknewthatnotaleswouldbetoldof theirowndoings.EveMalonewasnobody’sspy.
Bennydidn’tknowhowshewasgoingtomanage withouther.Evehadbeenthereforaslongassherememberedtohelpherfightherbattles.Todealwiththejibes ofthosewhocalledherBigBen.Evehadmadeshortwork ofanyonewhotookadvantageofBenny’sgentleways.
Theyhadbeenateamforyears:thetinywiryEvewithher restlesseyesneversettlinglongonanythingoranyone;the bighandsomeBenny,withhergreeneyesandchestnutbrownhair,tiedbackwithabowalways,abigsoftgoodqualitybowabitlikeBennyherself.
Iftherehadonlybeensomewaytheycouldhavegone inthedoorsofUniversityCollegetogetherandcomehome onthebuseachnight,orbetterstillgotaflattogether,life wouldhavebeenperfect.ButBennyhadnotgrownup expectinglifetobetotallyperfect.Surelyitwasenoughto havegotasmuchasshehad.
AnnabelHoganwaswonderingwhethertochangethe mainmealofthedaytotheevening.Therewerealotof argumentsforthisandalotagainst.
Eddiewasusedtohisdinnerinthemiddleoftheday. Hewalkedbackfromtheshopandtheplateofmeatand potatoeswasputinfrontofhimwitharegularitythat wouldhavepleasedanarmyofficer.AssoonasShep startedhislanguidstrollouttomeetthemasterattheturn oftheroad,Patsybegantoheattheplates.MrHogan wouldwashhishandsinthedownstairscloakroomand alwaysprofesspleasureatthelambchops,thebaconand cabbage,ortheplateofcodandparsleysauceonaFriday. Wouldn’titbeapoorthingtohavethemanclosehisshop andwalkbackforakindofhalf-heartedsnack.Maybeit mightevenaffecthisworkandhewouldn’tbeableto concentrateintheafternoon.
ButthenthinkofBennycomingbackfromDublinafter
adayintheuniversity:wouldn’titbebetteriftheysaved themainmealforherreturn?
Neitherhusbandnordaughterhadbeenanyhelp.They bothsaiditdidn’tmatter.Asusualtheburdenofthe wholehousefellonherselfandPatsy.
Themeatteawasprobablytheanswer.Abigsliceof ham,orgrilledbacon,orafewsausages,andtheycould putafewextraonBenny’splateincaseshefelttheneed ofit.Annabelcouldhardlybelievethatshehadadaughter abouttogotouniversity.Notthatshewasn’toldenough –shewaswelloldenoughtohaveseenafamilythrough university.Shehadmarriedlate,atatimeshehadalmost givenuphopeoffindingahusband.Shehadgivenbirthat atimewhenshethoughtmiscarriageswouldbeallshe everknew.
AnnabelHoganwalkedaroundherhouse:therewas alwayssomelittlethingtobedone.Patsywasinthebig, warmkitchen,thetablecoveredwithflourandcrockery, butitwouldallbesweptawayandscrubbedbymealtime. Lisbegwasnotabighouse,buttherewasplentytodo init.Therewerethreebedroomsandabathroomupstairs. Themasterbedroomlookedoutoveronesideofthefront doorandBenny’sbedroomwasontheother.Attheback ofthehouse,thedarkspareroomandthebig,oldfashionedbathroomwithitsnoisypipesanditshuge wood-surroundedbath.
Downstairsifyoucameinthefrontdoor(whichpeople rarelydid)youwouldfindalargeroomoneachside.They werehardlyeverused.TheHoganslivedinthebackofthe
house,inthebigshabbybreakfastroomthatopenedoff thekitchen.Therewashardlyeveraneedtolightafirein thebreakfastroombecausethegreatheatoftherange camethrough.Therewasabigdoubledoorkept permanentlyopenbetweenthetworooms,anditwasas comfortableaplaceasyoucouldimagine.
Theyrarelyhadvisitors,andifeveranyonewas expectedthefrontdrawingroominitspalegreensand pinkswithdampspotsoverthewallcouldbeairedand dusted.Butinthemain,thebreakfastroomwastheir home.
Ithadthreebigredplusharmchairs,andthetable againstthewallhadthreediningchairswithplushseatsas well.Ahugeradiostoodonthebigsideboard,andshelves ofornaments,andgoodchinaandoldbookswerefixed precariouslytothewall.
NowthatyoungEvehadbecomesucharegularguest inthehousehold,afourthchairhadbeenfound,acane chairrescuedfromoneofthesheds.Patsyhadtiedanice redcushiontoit.
Patsyherselfsleptinasmallroombeyondthekitchen. Itwasdarkandhadatinywindow.Patsyhadalwaystold MrsHoganthatitwaslikebeingdeadandgoingto Heaventohavearoomofyourown.Shehadalwayshad tosharewithatleasttwootherpeopleuntilthedayshe cametoLisbeg.
WhenPatsyhadwalkeduptheshortavenueandlooked atthesquarehousewithitscreeperanditsshabbygarden itseemedtoherlikeahouseonthefrontofacalendar.
Hersmallroomlookedoutonthebackyard,andshehad awindowbox.Thingsdidn’tgrowverywellinitbecause itwasinshadowandPatsywasn’tmuchofagardener,but itwasherown,andnobodyevertouchedit,anymore thantheyeverwentintoherroom.
PatsywasasexcitedasanyofthemaboutBennygoing touniversity.Everyyearonherannualholidays,Patsy paidadutifulvisitofonehalfdaytotheorphanagewhich hadrearedher,andthenshewenttostaywithafriend whohadmarriedinDublin.Shehadaskedherfriendto takehertoseewhereBennywouldbeastudent.Shehad stoodoutsidethehugepillarsofUniversityCollege, Dublin,andlookedatitallwithsatisfaction.Nowshe wouldknowwhereBennywentandstudied;shewould knowthelookoftheplace.
AndindeeditwasabigstepforBenny,AnnabelHogan realised.Nomoresafetrottingtoandfrofromthe convent.Itwaslifeinthebigcitywithseveralthousand otherstudentsfromallkindsofplaces,withdifferentways andnoonetoforceyoutostudylikeMotherFrancis.It wasnotsurprisingthatBennyhadbeenasexcitedasahen walkingonhotcoalsallsummerlong,neverabletokeep still,alwaysjumpingupwithsomefurtherexcitement.
ItwasarelieftoknowthatshewaswithEveMalonefor themorning,thosetwocouldtalkuntilthecowscame home.Annabelwishedthattherehadbeensomeway youngEvecouldhavebeensenttouniversitytoo.Itwould havemadethingsmorefairsomehow.Butthingsrarely turnedoutniceandneatlyinthislife.Annabelhadsaidas
muchtoFatherRossthelasttimehehadcometotea,and FatherRosshadlookedathersternlyoverhisglasses,sayingthatifweallunderstoodthewaytheUniversewasrun whatwouldtherebeleftforGodtotellusontheLastDay.
ToherselfAnnabelthoughtthatitwouldn’tinterfere withtherunningoftheUniverseifenoughmoneycouldbe foundsomewherefortheuniversityfeesandaccommodationforEveMalone,thechildwhohadnohome exceptthebigbleakconventwiththeheavyirongates.
MotherFrancishadaskedGodveryoftenforawayto sendEveMalonetouniversitybutsofarGodhadnotseen fittoshowherone.MotherFrancisknewitmustbepart ofhisdivineplan,butattimesshewonderedhadshe prayedhardenough,hadsheexaminedeverypossibility. ShehadcertainlybeenupeveryroadasfarastheOrder wasconcerned.ShehadwrittentotheMotherGeneral, shehadputEve’scaseaspersuasivelyasshecould.The girl’sfather,JackMalone,hadworkedallhislifeforthe conventashandymanandgardener.
JackhadmarriedthedaughteroftheWestwardfamily, asunlikelyamatchaswaseverknowninthecountry,but necessarysinceachildwasontheway.Therehadbeenno probleminhavingEvebroughtupasaCatholic,sincethe Westwardshadneverwantedtoknowaboutheratall, anddidn’tcarewhatfaithshewasraisedinjustaslongas theyneverhadtohearhername.
MotherGeneral’sviewwasthatenoughhadbeendone forthechildalready.Toprovideauniversityeducationfor
hermightmarkheroutasafavouredpupil.Wouldnot othersfromneedybackgroundsexpectthesame?
Ithadnotstoppedthere.MotherFrancishadtakenthe bustotheirconventinDublinandspokentothevery difficultMotherClarewhoheldswaythere.Withsomany youngnunsstartinguniversityeducationintheautumn andlodgingintheDublinconventwastherenotachance thatEvemightjointhem?Thegirlwouldbehappytodo houseworktoearnherplaceamongthestudents.
MotherClarewouldn’tevenconsiderit.Whatan extraordinarysuggestion,toputforwardagirl–acharity childwhowasnotaSister,anovice,apostulant,nor anyonewiththeremotestintentionofbecominganun–andraiseherupabovethemanySistersintheCommunity whowereallhopingandprayingforachanceofhigher education...whatwouldtheyfeelifagirlwhohad alreadybeenpampered,itseemed,bytheconventin Knockglen,wereputintostudy,overtheirheads?It wouldbeanoutrage.
Andperhapsitwasoutrageousofher,MotherFrancis thoughtsometimes.ItwasjustthatshelovedEveasmuch asanymothercouldloveadaughter.MotherFrancisthe celibatenunwhohadneverthoughtshecouldknowthe joyofseeingachildgrowupinhercarehadlovedEvein awaythatmightwellhavemadeherblindtothefeelings andsensitivitiesofotherpeople.MotherGeneraland MotherClarewereindeedright,itwouldhavebeen preferentialtreatmenttohavefinancedEve’suniversity educationfromtheconventfunds.
Butwhenallwassaidanddone,MotherFranciswished shecouldbesurethattheywouldtreatEvewellupin MotherClare’sconvent.StMary’shadalwaysbeena homeforEve;thefearwasthatshemightfindthesister houseinDublinmorelikeaninstitution,andworsestill shemightfindherownroletherenotthatofanhonoured daughter,butmorethatofamaid.
WhenBennyandEvecameoutofHealy’sHotel,theysaw SeanWalshwatchingthemfromthedoorwayofHogan’s acrossthestreet.
‘Ifyoukeeptalkingtomehemightthinkwehaven’t seenhim,’Bennyhissedoutofthecornerofhermouth.
‘Notachance.Lookathimstandingtherewithhis thumbsinbehindhisbraces,copyingthewayyourfather stands.’
EveknewonlytoowellSeanWalsh’sexpectations:he hadalong-termcareerplan,tomarrythedaughterofthe house,theheirtoHogan’sGentleman’sOutfitters,and inheritthelot.
TheyhadneverbeenabletolikeSeanWalsh,notsince theveryfirstdayhehadturnedupatBenny’stenth birthdayparty.Hehadneversmiled.Notonceinallthose yearshadtheyseenarealsmileonhisface.Therewerea lotofgrimaces,andalittledrybarksometimes,butnever alaugh.
Hedidn’tthrowhisheadbacklikePeggyPinedidwhen shelaughed,orgiggleintohisfistlikePaccyMoore;he didn’tmakebiggestureslikeMariointhefishandchip
shop,orevengetwheezingandcoughingfitslikeDessie Burnsoftendid.SeanWalshseemedwatchfulthewhole time.Onlywhenhesawotherssmilingandlaughingdid hegivethelittlebarks.
Theycouldnevergethimtotell anythingaboutthelife hehadlivedbeforehecametoKnockglen.Hedidn’ttell longstorieslikePatsydid,orwistfultaleslikeDekko MooreaboutthetimehemadeharnessesfortheLordsof theSoilsomewheredowninMeath.SeanWalshwould notbedrawn.
‘Oh,dear,youdon’twanttohearmystories,’hewould saywhenBennyandEveplaguedhimforsome information.
Theyearshadnotimprovedhim:hewasstillsecretive andinsincerelyanxioustoplease.Evenhisappearance annoyedBenny,althoughsheknewthiswasunreasonable. Heworeasuitthathadseenalotofpressing,andwas obviouslycarefullylookedafter.BennyandEveusedto telleachotherinfitsoflaughterthathespenthoursinhis littleroomabovetheshoppressingallhisambitionsinto thesuitwithadampcloth.
Bennydidn’treallybelieveEveaboutSeanhaving ambitionstomarryintotheshop,buttherewassomething deeplyunsettledallrightaboutthewayhelookedather. Shehadsomuchwantedtobefancied,itseemedacruel blowtothinkthatifiteverhappeneditmightonlybeby someoneasawfulasSeanWalsh.
‘Goodmorning,ladies.’Hemadeanexaggeratedbow. Therewasaninsultinhisvoice,asneerthathehadn’t
intendedthemtonotice.Otherpeoplehadcalledthem ‘ladies’,eventhatverymorning,andhaddonesowithout anyoffence.Itwasawayofacknowledgingthattheyhad leftschoolandwouldshortlystartamoregrown-uplife. Whentheyhadbeeninthechemist’sbuyingshampoo,Mr Kennedyhadaskedwhathecoulddoforthetwoyoung ladiesandtheyhadbeenpleased.PaccyMoorehadsaid theyweretwofineladieswhentheyhadgonetohaveheels putonBenny’sgoodshoes.ButwithSeanWalshitwas different.
‘Hallo,Sean.’Benny’svoicewaslacklustre.
‘Surveyingthemetropolis,Isee,’hesaidloftily.He alwaysspokeslightlydisparaginglyofKnockglen,even thoughtheplacehecamefromhimselfwassmallerand evenlesslikeametropolis.Bennyfeltaviolentsurgeof annoyance.
‘Well,you’reafreeagent,’shesaidsuddenly.‘Ifyou don’tlikeKnockglenyoucouldalwaysgosomewhere else.’
‘DidIsayIdidn’tlikeit?’Hiseyeswerenarrowerthan ever,almostslits.Hehadgaugedthiswrong,hemustnot allowhertoreporthishavingslightedtheplace.‘Iwas onlymakingapleasantremarkcomparingthisplacetothe bigcity.Meaningthatyou’llhavenotimeforushereatall soon.’
Thathadbeenthewrongthingtoo.
‘I’llhavelittlechanceofforgettingallaboutKnockglen consideringI’llbecominghomeeverynight,’saidBenny glumly.
‘Andwewouldn’twanttoanyway,’Evesaidwithher chinstuckout.SeanWalshwouldneverknowhowoften sheandBennybemoanedtheirfatelivinginsuchasmall townwhichhadtheworstcharacteristicanytowncould have:itwasactuallywithinstrikingdistanceofDublin.
SeanhardlyeverlethisglancefallonEve,forsheheld nointerestforhim.Allhisremarksweredirectedto Benny.‘Yourfatherissoproudofyou,there’shardlya customerthathehasn’ttoldaboutyourgreatsuccess.’
Bennyhatedhissmileandhisknowingways.Hemust knowhowmuchshehatedbeingtoldthis,remindedabout howshewastheappleoftheireye,andthecentreof simpleboastfulconversation.Andifheknewwhydidhe tellherandannoyherstillfurther?Ifhedidhavedesigns onher,andaplantomarryMrEddieHogan’sdaughter andtherebymarryintothebusiness,thenwhywashe sayingallthethingsthatwouldirritateandupsether?
Perhapshethoughtthatherownwisheswouldhardly beconsideredinthematter.Thatthebiddabledaughterof thehousewouldgiveinonthisasshehadoneverything else.
BennyrealisedshemustfightSeanWalsh.‘Doeshetell everyoneI’m goingtocollege?’sheasked,withasmileof pleasureonherface.
‘Onlysubjectofconversation.’Seanwassmugtobethe sourceofinformationbutsomehowdisconcertedthat Bennydidn’tgetembarrassedashehadthoughtshe would.
BennyturnedtoEve.‘Aren’tIlucky?’
Eveunderstood.‘Oh,spoiledrotten,’sheagreed.
Theydidn’tlaughuntiltheywereoutofsight.Theyhad towalkdownthelongstraightstreetpastShea’spubwith itssoursmellofdrinkcomingoutontothestreetfrom behinditsdarkwindows,pastBirdieMac’ssweetshop wheretheyhadspentsomuchtimechoosingfromjarsall theirschoollife.Acrosstheroadtothebutcher’swhere theylookedinthewindowtoseebackatthereflectionof Hogan’sOutfittersandrealisethatSeanWalshhadgone backinsidetotheempirethatwouldonedaybehis.
Onlythencouldtheyletthemselvesgoandlaugh properly.
MrFlood,ofFlood’sQualityMeatKilledOnThe Premises,didn’tappreciatetheirlaughter.
‘What’ssofunnyaboutarowofgigotchops?’heasked thetwolaughinggirlsoutsidehiswindow.Itonlymade themlaughmore.
‘Getonwithyouthen,doyourlaughingsomewhere else,’hegrowledatthem.‘Stopmakingamockandajeer outofotherpeople’sbusiness.’
Hisfacewasseverelytroubledandhewentoutintothe streettolookupatthetreewhichoverhunghishouse.
MrFloodhadbeenstaringintothattreealotlately,and worsestillhavingconversationswithsomeonehesawinits branches.ThegeneralthinkingwasthatMrFloodhadseen somekindofvision,butwasnotreadyyettorevealittothe town.Hiswordstothetreeseemedtoberespectfuland thoughtful,andheaddressedwhateverhesawasSister.
BennyandEvewatchedfascinated,asheshookhishead
sorrowfullyandseemedtoagreewithsomethingthathad beensaidtohim.
‘It’sthesamethewholeworldover,Sister,’hesaid,‘but it’ssaditshouldcometoIrelandaswell.’
Helistenedrespectfullytowhathewashearingfrom thetree,andtookhisleave.Visionornovision,therewas worktobedoneintheshop.
Thegirlsonlystoppedlaughingbythetimetheyhad reachedtheconventgates.Bennyturnedtogobackhome asusual.SheneverpresumedonherfriendshipwithEve byexpectingtobeletintotheinnersanctum.Theconvent inholidayswasofflimits.
‘No,comeonin,comeinjusttoseemyroom,’Eve begged.
‘MotherFrancis?Wouldn’ttheythink...?’
‘It’smyhome,they’vealwaystoldmethat.Anyway, you’renotapupilanymore.’
Theywentthroughasidedoor;therewasasmellof baking,awarmkitchensmellthroughthecorridors,then asmellofpolishonthebigstairway,andthewidedark hallhungwithpicturesofMotherFoundressandOur Lady,andlitonlybytheSacredHeartlamp.
‘Isn’titdesperatelyquietintheholidays?’
‘Youshouldbehereatnight.SometimeswhenI’ve comehomefromthepicturesandIletmyselfin,it’sso quietI’dnearlytalktothestatuesforcompany.’
TheywentuptothesmallroomwhereEvehadlivedfor aslongasshecouldremember.Bennylookedaroundwith interest.
‘Lookatyourwireless,rightbesideyourbed!’The brownbakeliteelectricradio,where,likeeveryothergirl inthecountry,EvelistenedatnighttoRadioLuxembourg,wasonhernighttable.InBenny’shouse,whereshe wasconsideredaverypamperedonlychild,shehadto borrowthekitchenradioandthenperchitonachair becausetherewasn’tanysocketnearenoughtoherbedto plugitin.
Therewasaneatcandlewickbedspreadandafunny nightdresscaseshapedlikearabbit.
‘MotherFrancisgavemethatwhenIwasten.Isn’tit awful?’
‘Betterthanholypictures,’Bennysaid.
Eveopenedadrawerinwhichtherewerepilesofholy pictures,eachoneboundupwitharubberband.
Bennylookedatthem,fascinated.‘Youneverthrew themaway!’
‘Nothere.Icouldn’t.’
ThesmallroundwindowlookeddownoverKnockglen, alongthetree-lineddriveoftheconventthroughthebig gatesanddownthebroadmainstreetofthetown.
TheycouldseeMrFloodfussingroundthewindowof hisshopasifhewerestillworriedaboutwhattheycould havefoundsoamusinginitscontents.Theysawsmall childrenwithnosespressedagainstthewindowofBirdie Mac’s,andmenwithcapspulledwelldownovertheir facescomingoutofShea’spub.
TheysawablackMorrisCowleypullupinfrontof Hogan’sandknewitwasDrJohnson.Theysawtwomen
walkingintoHealy’sHotel,rubbingtheirhands.These wouldbecommercial travellers,wantingtowriteuptheir orderbooksinpeace.Theycouldseeamanwithaladder upagainstthecinemaputtingupthenewposter,andthe smallroundfigureofPeggyPinecomingoutofherdress shoptostandandlookadmiringlyatherwindowdisplay. Peggy’sideaofartwastoputasmuchinthewindowas couldpossiblyfitwithoutfallingover.
‘Youcanseeeverything!Bennywasamazed.‘It’slike beingGod.’
‘Notreally,Godcanseeroundcorners.Ican’tseeyour house;Ican’tseewho’shavingchipsinMario’s;Ican’tsee overthehilltoWestlands.NotthatI’dwantto,butI can’t.’
Hervoicewastightwhenshespokeofhermother’s peopleinthebighouse.Bennyknewfromoldthatitwas athornysubject.
‘Isupposetheywouldn’t...’
‘Theywouldn’t.’Evewasfirm.
TheybothknewwhatBennywasgoingtosay:that therewasnochanceofthewealthyWestwardspayingfor auniversityeducationforEve.
‘DoyouthinkMotherFrancismighthaveapproached them?’
‘I’msureshedid,lotsoftimesovertheyears,andshe alwaysgotthedoorslammedinherface.’
‘Youcan’tbecertain,’Bennysaidsoothingly. Evelookedoutofthewindowdownthetown,standing asshemustoftenhavedoneovertheyears.
‘Shedideverysinglethingtohelpmethatanyonecould. She must haveaskedthem,andtheymusthavesaidno. Shedidn’ttellmebecauseshedidn’twantmetofeelworse aboutthem.AsifIcould.’
‘Inafairystoryoneofthemwouldrideuptotheavenue hereonawhitehorseandsaythey’dbeenwantingyouas partoftheirlivesforyears,’Bennysaid.
‘AndinafairystoryI’dtellhimtogetlost,’Evesaid, laughing.
‘No,Iwouldn’tletyou,you’dsaythankyouverymuch, thefeesarethisprice,andI’dlikeaniceflatofmyown withcarpetsgoingrightuptothewallandnocounting howmuchelectricfireweuse.’Bennywasgleeful.
‘Ohyes,andadressallowanceofcourse,somucha monthputinSwitzer’sandBrownThomasforme.’
‘Andaholidayabroadeachyeartomakeupfornot seeingyoumuchoverthepastwhile!’
‘Andahugecontributiontotheconventbuildingfund forthenewchapeltothankthenunsfordoingthe needful.’
Bennysighed.‘Isupposethingslikethat could happen.’ ‘Asyousaid,inafairystory,’Evesaid.‘Andwhat wouldbethebesthappeningforyou?’
‘Twomentogetoutofavandownthereinaminute’s timeandtellmyfatherthatSeanWalshisacriminal wantedforsixmurdersinDublinandthathehastobe handcuffedandoutoftherethisinstant.’
‘Itstillleavesthebusinessofyouhavingtocomehome fromDublinonthebuseverynight,’Evesaid.
