‘Well, that is a sight I would like to see anyway,’ Nellie said. ‘But don’t you worry about this Sunday. I will prime the neighbours as well as the priest, and between the lot of us we will have Biddy eating out of the palm of our hands.’
‘Hah, I doubt that very much.’
‘And so do I really,’ Nellie said with a grim little smile. ‘However, for Molly’s sake we will do our best.’
As soon as they reached the church that Sunday morning, Cathy pounced on Molly and spirited her away, saying she wanted to introduce her to her friends. And Molly went without asking, or even giving Biddy a look of any sort. Biddy could see her now in a group of young girls like herself, laughing and talking fifteen to the dozen as if she had known them all her life, and she vowed she would make Molly pay for that act of wilfulness when she got her home.
Then to cap it all, Nellie was by her elbow, asking if Molly could come to tea with them that evening. Before Biddy had a chance to say that she couldn’t, everyone else took up the conversation, saying what a great idea and how grand it was for young people, like, to be together. Even the priest joined in.
‘Molly has duties at home,’ Biddy said through tight lips.
‘Ah, but less on Sunday, surely?’ said the priest. ‘The Good Lord did not labour on the seventh day, on the Sabbath. It’s not just for resting either, particularly for the young. It is for doing things you can’t do on the other days of the week, like taking a walk perhaps, or visiting a friend. I can’t think of anything nicer than Molly calling for tea with Cathy McEvoy.’
Biddy could think of a host of things she would rather have the girl do, but she felt as if she was caught in a corner. She would have said she hadn’t a whit of interest in the townspeople and their opinion mattered not a jot to her, but Nellie McEvoy was the postmistress and that position meant power. It wouldn’t do to make a real enemy of her. And then, of course, there was the priest. Biddy knew that this time, anyway, she would have to let the bloody girl go to tea with Nellie and her family, and she would wish her joy of it because if she had her way it would be for the last time.
However, Biddy was no fool. She knew that the fiasco had been engineered and could have an educated guess as to who was behind it too: the son she had once thought she could count on. The thought that she might be losing her influence over Tom put her in a filthy temper, and so she scowled her way through the Mass, and once it was over, she scurried from the place, pushing Molly in front of her and calling for Tom to hurry up. She looked neither to the right nor to the left and addressed no one as they made their way home. That gave the townsfolk something else to discuss over their dinner.
Tom and Molly had to put up with Biddy’s ill humour all day. Her nagging and complaining reached new heights and Molly got more than one unwarranted slap. But she didn’t care, not that day, when, with the dinner eaten and the dishes washed and put away, she took up her coat. Tom whistled to Skip and Fly as they crossed the cobbled yard, and together they walked across the fields to Buncrana and Cathy’s place above the post office.
‘I’m so glad that you could come,’ Cathy said.
‘And me,’ Molly said fervently. ‘I had my doubts I’d be let when your mother asked me last week.’
‘I know,’ Cathy said, and she giggled. ‘I think Mammy and your uncle hatched something between them yesterday. I was going to go into the post office and saw them with their heads together. I couldn’t hear what they were saying and all, but then this morning, as we set off for Mass, Mammy said for me to get you away from your grandmother with some excuse. Well, that was easy because all the other girls wanted to meet you. I tell you, Molly, you have been the subject of many of our conversations. I thought you would be joining us at the school, tell you the truth.’
‘I would rather be at school any day in comparison to the drudge I am fast turning into,’ Molly told Cathy firmly. ‘Anyway,’ she added, ‘I should be there. I’m not fourteen and won’t be until February.’
‘Then why … ?’
‘My grandmother said I had enough book-learning and that more of it would not fit me any better for life on the farm.’
‘And you would rather be at school?’
‘Much rather.’
‘I can’t wait to leave.’
‘Yeah, but what are you leaving to?’ Molly said. ‘Your mother runs the shop and post office so I suppose there will be some employment for you?’
‘Oh, aye,’ Cathy said. ‘It’s what she wants for me, now I am the only one left. I have two sisters and two brothers, but they have all left home now and are, anyway, much older than me. Really, it was like being an only child in many ways.’
‘It was the other way round in our house,’ Molly said. ‘I am eight years older than my brother, and yet my parents, particularly my mother, made us both feel very special in different ways.’
There was silence in the room for a few moments and Molly felt the changed atmosphere and said a little apprehensively, ‘What’s up? What did I say that was so wrong?’
‘Nothing,’ Cathy said. ‘I mean, look, Molly, I was warned not to say one word about your mother and you just came out with it so natural.’
‘I suppose you were told that in case it would upset me?’ Molly said.
‘Aye, that’s what Mammy said.’
Molly thought for a second or two and then said, ‘You know, I think that it is far better to talk about my parents, even if it does make me a little sad. Not talking about them at all makes it seem as if they really didn’t exist and they very much did.’
‘I just can’t imagine how you have coped with it all.’
‘Don’t even try,’ Molly advised. ‘It is really so very painful, but I would rather talk of the things we did when they were alive than how and when they died.’
‘Right,’ Cathy said. ‘You are absolutely right, and we won’t go down that road unless you want to.’
Molly was surprised, when Nellie called both girls down for their tea, to find it was a quarter-past five. Never had time passed so quickly. She wished that they could have eaten their tea in the very comfortable bedroom where she could have relaxed properly with Cathy. Although she knew Nellie to be kindly to invite her to tea, she was still nervous of sitting up to a meal with her and Cathy’s father, Jack, whom she had only glimpsed at Mass.
She was worrying unduly, though, because both adults went out of their way to make Molly feel at home and more than welcome. They were like chalk and cheese to look at, Molly noted, for while Nellie was a thin and neat little woman, with eyes the same brown as her daughter’s and the same shape to her mouth, and her grey hair caught up in a bun, her husband was a bear of a man. He was about as tall as Molly’s uncle, but much broader, from his barrel chest to his more than ample stomach. His face was red, his eyes blue, and the hair that he had left on his head light brown.
He was constantly urging Molly to ‘eat up’, and offering her plate after plate of delicacies from the beautifully made sandwiches to the cakes and scones.
‘Mostly shop bought, I am afraid,’ Nellie said apologetically. ‘I am too busy with the shop to bake as well.’
Molly didn’t care. She seldom had food so fine and she tucked in with relish.
‘That’s the way, young Molly,’ said Jack approvingly. ‘I love to see a girl with an appetite.’
‘If we all ate enough to please you, Daddy, we’d be the size of a house,’ Cathy said.
Jack’s eyes twinkled as he gazed at his daughter. ‘Not at all, at all,’ he said. ‘Molly at least knows that the only thing to do with good food is eat it.’
Molly immediately wondered if she had eaten too much, been greedy. Nellie noticed her slight hesitation and urged, ‘You eat away, Molly. Nothing vexes a woman more than preparing food that people just pick at.’
Cathy hooted with laughter. ‘No danger of that here, Mammy. Anything anyone leaves is eaten by Daddy, shown clearly by his girth.’
‘You cheeky young rip,’ Jack said, but there was no menace in his voice, even when he added, ‘You are not too old for a good hiding, you know.’
‘Oh, that would be the day,’ Nellie said. ‘You have never laid a hand on any of them, even the lads, who could sometimes have done with a father’s hand. All the chastising was left to me.’
‘I am too big a man and my hands too large and rough to be hitting weans, sure,’ Jack said. ‘And you must have done the job right, for the children made a fine turn-out, the boys too.’
‘Even me?’ Cathy asked impishly.
‘No,’ Jack said. ‘Not you, for you are the worst of the lot.’ And he winked at Molly as he went on, ‘Completely ungovernable. Still, there is usually one bad apple in every barrel.’
‘Cheek!’ spluttered Cathy indignantly, while the laughter swelled around the table and Molly thought that the love apparent between Cathy and her parents reminded her of how it had been in her own home. She refused to let herself be sad and spoil this happy atmosphere, but Nellie had seen the shadow flit across Molly’s eyes and could guess her thoughts. ‘I think that we should have a bit of decorum when we sit down to a meal, particularly on a Sunday,’ she said, with a smile for Molly. ‘I would say that Molly is shocked to the core, are you not, child?’
Molly could see by the smile on Nellie’s face that she didn’t believe this for a moment, and without a trace of self-pity, she said, ‘No, not at all. I like it. It reminds me of some of the meals we used to have at home.’
There was a sudden silence and before it could become uncomfortable, Nellie said gently, ‘Can I say, my dear, if it won’t upset you too much, how like your mother you are?’
‘I know,’ Molly said happily. ‘And I am glad. My little brother looks more like my dad did. And no, it doesn’t upset me to talk about them. I don’t want anyone to think that there were so many things they couldn’t say to me that it was safest to say nothing at all, or skirt around the subject as if they were treading on eggshells.’
‘Well said, Molly,’ Jack said, clapping her on the back. ‘I think that that is the very best way to look at things. Now can I tempt you to take another cake?’