Circle of Friends (2 page)

Benny was glad that her father would be there for the cake, because that was when she might be given her present.
Father had said it was going to be a wonderful surprise. Benny
knew
that they must have got her the velvet dress with the lacy collar and the pumps to go with it. She had wanted it since last Christmas when they went to the pantomime in Dublin and she had seen the girls on the stage dancing in pink velvet dresses like this.

They had heard that they sold them in Clerys, and that was only a few minutes from where the bus stopped when it went to Dublin.

Benny was large and square, but she wouldn’t look like that in the pink velvet dress. She would be just like the fairy dancers they had seen on the stage, and her feet wouldn’t look big and flat in those shoes because they had lovely pointy toes, and little pom-poms on them.

The invitations to the party had been sent out ten days ago. There would be seven girls from school, farmers’ daughters mainly from outside Knockglen. And Maire Carroll, whose mother and father owned the grocery. The Kennedys from the chemist’s were all boys so they wouldn’t be there, and Dr. Johnson’s children were all too young so they couldn’t come either. Peggy Pine who ran the smart clothes shop said that she might have her young niece staying with her. Benny said she didn’t want anyone they didn’t know, and it was with some relief that they heard the niece Clodagh didn’t want to go amongst strangers either.

Her mother had insisted she invite Eve Malone and that was bad enough. Eve was the girl who lived in the convent and knew all the nuns’ secrets. Some people at school said look how Mother Francis never gives out to Eve, she’s the real pet; others said the nuns had to keep her for charity and didn’t like her as much as they liked the other girls whose families all contributed something to the upkeep of St. Mary’s.

Eve was small and dark. She looked like a pixie sometimes, her eyes darting here and there, forever watchful. Benny neither liked Eve nor disliked her. She envied her
being so fleet and lithe and able to climb walls. She knew that Eve had her own room in the convent, behind the curtain where no other girl was allowed to step. The girls said it was the room with the round window that faced down the town and that Eve could sit at the window and watch everyone and where they went and who they were with. She never went on holidays anywhere, she stayed with the nuns all the time. Sometimes Mother Francis and Mrs. Pine from the dress shop would take her on an outing to Dublin, but she had never stayed away a night.

Once, when they had gone on a nature walk, Eve had pointed to a small cottage and said that it was her house. It stood in a group of small houses, each separate and surrounded by a little stone wall. When she was older she would live in it all on her own and there would be no milk allowed in the door, and no clothes hangers. She would put all her things on the floor because it was hers to do what she liked with.

Some of them were half afraid of Eve, so nobody denied the story, but nobody really believed it either. Eve was so strange, she could make up tales and then, when everyone had got interested, she would say, “Fooled you.”

Benny didn’t really want her to come to the party, but for once Mother had been insistent.

“That child has no home. She must come to this one when there’s a celebration.”

“She
has
a home, Mother, she’s got the run of the whole convent.”

“That’s not the same. She’s to come here, Benny, that’s my last word.”

Eve had written a very neat correct letter saying that she accepted the invitation with pleasure.

“They taught her to write nicely,” Benny’s father had said approvingly.

“They’re determined to make a lady out of her,”
Mother had said. No one would explain why it seemed so important.

“When it’s her birthday she only gets holy pictures and holy water fonts,” Benny reported. “That’s all the nuns have, you see.”

“God, that would turn a few of them over in their graves up there under the yew trees,” Benny’s father had said, but again there was no explanation of why.

“Poor Eve, what a start for her,” Benny’s mother sighed.

“I wonder was she born on a Wednesday like Patsy.” Benny was struck by something.

“Why would that matter?”

“She’d be miserable. Wednesday’s child is full of woe,” Benny parroted.

“Nonsense.” Her father was dismissive.

“What day was I born on?”

“A Monday, Monday September eighteenth, 1939,” her mother said. “At six o’clock in the evening.”

Her parents exchanged glances, looks that seemed to remember a long wait for a first and, as it turned out, an only child.

“Monday’s child is fair of face,” Benny said, grimacing.

“Well, that’s true certainly!” her mother said.

“You couldn’t have a fairer face than Mary Bernadette Hogan, spinster of this parish, almost ten years of age,” said her father.

“It’s not really fair, I mean I don’t have fair hair.” Benny struggled to fit in with the saying accurately.

“You have the most beautiful hair I have ever seen.” Her mother stroked Benny’s long chestnut locks.

“Do I really look nice?” she asked.

They reassured her that she looked beautiful, and she knew they had bought the dress for her. She had been worried for a bit but now she was certain.

At school next day, even the girls who hadn’t been asked to the party wished her a happy birthday.

“What are you getting?”

“I don’t know, it’s a surprise.”

“Is it a dress?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Ah, go on, tell us.”

“I don’t know yet, really. I won’t have it till the party.”

“Was it got in Dublin?”

“I think so.”

Eve spoke suddenly. “It might have been got here, there’s lots of things in Mrs. Pine’s.”

“I don’t think so.” Benny tossed her head.

Eve shrugged. “Okay.”

The others had gone away.

Benny turned on Eve. “Why did you say it was got in Mrs. Pine’s? You don’t know, you don’t know anything.”

“I said okay.”

“Have
you
got a frock?”

“Yes, Mother Francis got one at Mrs. Pine’s. I don’t think it’s new. I think someone gave it back because there was something wrong with it.”

Eve wasn’t apologetic. Her eyes flashed, she was ready with the explanation before anyone else could make the accusation.

“You don’t know that.”

“No, but I think it. Mother Francis wouldn’t have the money to buy me a new frock.”

Benny looked at her with admiration. She softened in her own attack.

“Well, I don’t know either. I think they got me this lovely velvet one. But they mightn’t.”

“They got you something new anyway.”

“Yes, but I’d really look great in this,” Benny said. “It would make anyone look great.”

“Don’t think about it too much,” Eve warned.

“Maybe you’re right.”

“It’s nice of you to ask me. I didn’t think you liked me,” Eve said.

“Oh, I do.” Poor Benny was flustered.

“Good. Just as long as you weren’t told to, or anything.”

“No! Heavens no!” Benny was far too vehement.

Eve looked at her with a measured glance. “Right,” she said. “See you this afternoon.”

They went to school on Saturday mornings, and at twelve-thirty when the bell went they all poured out of the school gates. All except Eve, who went to the convent kitchen.

“We’ll have to feed you up with a good meal before you go,” said Sister Margaret.

“We wouldn’t want them to think that a girl from St. Mary’s would eat all before her when she went out to tea,” said Sister Jerome. They didn’t want to spell it out too much for Eve, but it was a big event, the child they had brought up being invited out to a party. The whole community was delighted for her.

As Benny had walked down the town, Mr. Kennedy called her into the chemist’s.

“A little bird told me it was your birthday,” he said.

“I’m ten,” Benny said.

“I know. I remember when you were born. It was in the Emergency. Your Mam and Dad were so pleased. They didn’t mind at all that you weren’t a boy.”

“Did they want a boy do you think?”

“Everyone with a business wants a boy. But I don’t know, I’ve three of them, and I don’t think one of them will ever run this place for me.” He sighed heavily.

“Well, I suppose I’d better be …”

“No, no. I brought you in to give you a present. Here’s a pack of barley sugar all for you.”

“Oh, Mr. Kennedy …” Benny was overwhelmed.

“Not at all. You’re a grand girl. I always say to myself, there’s that little barrel Benny Hogan coming along.”

A bit of the sunlight went out of the barley sugar. Moodily Benny tore the corner off the packet and began to eat a sweet.

Dessie Burns, whose hardware shop was next door to Kennedy’s, gave her a shout of approval.

“That’s it, Benny, like myself, always head in the nosebag. How are you in yourself these days?”

“I’m ten today, Mr. Burns.”

“Jaysus isn’t that great, if you were six years older I’d take you into Shea’s and put you up on my knee and buy you a gin and It.”

“Thank you Mr. Burns.” She looked at him fearfully.

“What’s your father doing over there? Don’t tell me he’s after hiring new staff. Half the country taking the emigrant ship and Eddie Hogan decides to expand.”

Dessie Burns had small piggy eyes. He looked across the street toward Hogan’s Gentleman’s Outfitters with huge unconcealed interest. Her father was shaking hands with a man—or a boy, it was hard to see. He looked about seventeen, Benny thought, thin and pale. He had a suitcase in his hand. He was looking up at the sign over the door.

“I don’t know anything about it, Mr. Burns,” she said.

“Good girl, keep your mind out of business, let me tell you it’s a heart scald. If I were a woman I wouldn’t have the slightest interest in it either. I’d just get myself a fine eejit of a man to keep me in barley sugar all day.”

Benny went on down the street, past the empty shop which people said that a real Italian from Italy was going to open up. She passed the cobbler’s shop where Paccy Moore and his sister Bee waved out to her. Paccy had a twisted leg. He didn’t go to mass, but it was said that the priests came down to him once a month and heard his confession and gave him Holy Communion. Benny had heard that they had sent to Dublin and maybe even Rome for him to have a
dispensation, and it wasn’t a question of his being a sinner or outside the Church or anything. And then she was home to Lisbeg. The new dog, which was half collie, half sheepdog, sat sleepily on the step loving the September sunshine.

Through the window she could see the table set for the party. Patsy had cleaned the brasses specially, and Mother had tidied up the front garden. Benny swallowed the barley sugar rather than be accused of eating sweets in the public view, and let herself in the back.

“Not a word out of that dog to let you know I was coming,” her mother said crossly.

“He shouldn’t bark at you, you’re family,” Benny defended him.

“The day Shep barks for anything except his own amusement there’ll be white blackbirds. Tell me did you have a nice day at school, did they make a fuss of you?”

“They did, Mother.”

“That’s good. Well they won’t know you when they see you this afternoon.”

Benny’s heart soared. “Will I be getting dressed, like in anything new, before the party?”

“I think so. I think we’ll have you looking like the bees knees before they come in.”

“Will I put it on now?”

“Why not.” Benny’s mother seemed excited about seeing the new outfit herself. “I’ll lay it out for you on the bed. Come up and give yourself a bit of a wash and we’ll put it on.”

Benny stood patiently in the big bathroom while the back of her neck was washed. It wouldn’t be long now.

Then she was led into her bedroom.

“Close your eyes,” said Mother.

When Benny opened them she saw on the bed a thick navy skirt, a Fair Isle jumper in navy and red. A big sturdy
pair of navy shoes lay in their box and chunky white socks folded nice and neatly beside them. Peeping out of tissue paper was a small red shoulder bag.

“It’s an entire outfit,” cried Mother. “Dressed from head to foot by Peggy Pine …”

Mother stood back to see the effect of the gift.

Benny was wordless. No velvet dress, no lovely soft crushed velvet that you could stroke, with its beautiful lacy trim. Only horrible harsh rough things like horsehair. Nothing in a misty pink, but instead good plain sensible colors. And the shoes! Where were the pumps with the pointed toes?

Benny bit her lip and willed the tears back into her eyes.

“Well, what do you think?” Her mother was beaming proudly. “Your father said you must have the handbag and the shoes as well, it would make it a real outfit. He said that going into double figures must be marked.”

“It’s lovely,” Benny muttered.

“Isn’t the jumper perfect? I’d been asking Peggy to get something like that for ages. I said I didn’t want anything shoddy … something strong that would stand up to a bit of rough-and-tumble.”

“It’s gorgeous,” Benny said.

“Feel it,” her mother urged.

She didn’t want to. Not while she still had the velvet feel in her mind.

“I’ll put it on myself, Mother, then I’ll come and show you,” she said.

She was holding on by a thread.

Fortunately, Annabel Hogan needed to go and supervise the shaking of hundreds-and-thousands on the trifle. She was just heading off downstairs when the telephone rang. “That’ll be your father.” She sounded pleased and her step was quicker on the stair.

Through her sobs, which she choked into the pillow, Benny heard snatches of the conversation.

“She loved it, Eddie, you know I think it was almost too much for her, she couldn’t seem to take it all in,
so
many things, a bag and shoes, and socks, on top of everything. A child of that age isn’t used to getting all that much at once. No, not yet, she’s putting it on. It’ll look fine on her …”

Slowly Benny got off her bed and went over to the mirror on the wardrobe to see if her face looked as red and tearstained as she feared. She saw the chunky figure of a child in vest and knickers, neck red from scrubbing, eyes red from weeping. She was not a person that anyone would ever dream of putting in a pink velvet dress and little pumps with pointed toes. For no reason at all she remembered Eve Malone. She remembered her small earnest face warning her not to think about the dress from Dublin too much.