Light A Penny Candle (8 page)

Eileen pulled the child towards her affectionately. ‘Now, that’s very kind of you to tell me that,’ she said.

‘It’s not that I’m asking you to buy expensive things like that, it’s just that Aisling believes very strongly that what you tell Santa Claus should be a secret, and she mightn’t tell you.’

‘Well, I’ll keep that information very carefully in my mind,’ said Eileen solemnly. ‘Run off with you, now.’

Christmas Eve was like a combination of Saturday nights with all the shoe polishing and neck washing, and the day of the Christmas play at school, all feverish excitement. Even grown-up people like Maureen and her friend Berna were giggling, and Young Sean was happy and wrapping up parcels.

During the night Elizabeth heard the door open. She glanced worriedly over at Aisling’s bed but the red hair out on the pillow never stirred. Through half-closed eyes Elizabeth saw Sean place the bicycle, wrapped in brown paper and holly sprigs, at the end of Aisling’s bed. And to her amazement she saw a similar shape coming to the end of her own bed. Two sharp trickles of tears began in her eyes. They were such a kind family, she would never be able to thank them. She must really try to explain to Mother in her next letter how kind they were. Please could she find words that wouldn’t irritate Mother and make Mother feel that she was being criticised.

Then it was morning and there were screams of excitement as Aisling in pyjamas tore off the wrapping paper. As Elizabeth swung her legs out of bed, Aisling, her face flushed with happiness, came over and gave her a great hug. She forced herself to put her arms around Aisling too. Though this was a new experience and she was always nervous of something new. Up to now they had only linked arms when coming home from school. That had been the closest contact. But now it was a sea of affection and excitement and it almost drowned Elizabeth with its unfamiliarity.

But in no time there were shouts and calls, and squeaks and hoots on a trumpet, and more shouts. …

‘Down here in two minutes or Christmas or no Christmas you’ll feel the palm of my hand!’

It was still dark as they went up the hill to the church calling and wishing people Happy Christmas. Several
people
asked Elizabeth what she got in her stocking… and Doctor Lynch, Berna’s father, pinched her cheek and asked her was an Irish Christmas better than an English one. His wife pulled him away crossly.

There were sausages and eggs for breakfast, paper table napkins on the table. Niamh sat up in her high chair and gurgled at them. There was more suppressed excitement since presents were going to be given afterwards beside the fire. The big things had come in the night but the individual ones would come now, and then the girls could go out in the square with their bicycles, Maureen could parade with her new jacket and matching beret, Eamonn with his football and boots, Donal with his scooter. Then it would be in again for the huge goose that was already cooking in the range.

There were oohs and aahs over the presents, the pincushions, the bookmarks, the dish painted as an ashtray for Da, the necklace made of carefully threaded beads. But there was the greatest applause for the presents that Maureen gave. For Mam there was beautiful soap, and for Da there was a proper man’s scarf. For Aisling and Elizabeth big bangles with coloured glass in them; for Eamonn a big light for his bicycle; for Donal a funny furry hat, and even for the baby a rattle. She had given her elder brother two matching hair brushes like gentlemen used in picture books, and for Peggy she had a sparkling brooch.

Maureen had been the last to do the distributing. She had asked if she could be and it seemed a glorious end to the present-giving. The air was so full of gratitude and
re-examination
of gifts that none of them except Elizabeth noted the anxious glances exchanged between Auntie Eileen and Uncle Sean. She couldn’t interpret them – it was as if they alone had seen some hidden disaster. Uncle Sean evidently had decided to let Auntie deal with it, whatever it was. Elizabeth’s face was reddening with anxiety, she knew it was.

‘Right everyone, clear up all the mess, paper into this box, string into that, and
don’t lose anything!
’ Eileen supervised a huge sweep on the room. ‘Now all of you out in the square, yes, you too, Sean, get a bit of exercise … and Donal, of course you can child … wrap up well. No, leave your furry hat here, that’s the boy.’

In minutes she had the room cleared of people and presents. Elizabeth’s heart pounded because she knew something was very wrong. She went into the kitchen with Peggy and helped to fold the paper up into squares. Peggy kept up a monologue about how much there was to be done for the meal and how little help anyone gave… but she was only muttering, and didn’t expect any answer.

The voices came clearly from the next room.

‘No, Maureen, sit down. Come on sit down. …’

‘I don’t know what you mean Ma, what is it?’

‘Maureen, where did you get the money to pay for these things … where?’

‘Ma, I don’t know what you mean. I saved up my pocket money like everyone else. … Of course I did Ma.’

‘We’re not fools Maureen … look at these things. They
cost
a fortune. That soap you bought your mother … it’s fifteen shillings. I saw it myself in the chemist.’

‘But Da, I didn’t. …’

‘Just tell us where you got the money child, that’s all your father and I want to know. Tell us quickly and don’t ruin the day for all the rest of them.’

‘I never took any of your money Mam, you can look in your desk, I didn’t take a penny. …’

‘I didn’t miss anything Sean.’

‘And I didn’t touch anything in your pocket, Da. …’

‘Come on, Maureen, you get a shilling a week, you have pounds’ worth of stuff here. Pounds and pounds. Can’t you see your mother and I are heart-scalded over it. …’

‘Is this the thanks I get for giving you nice Christmas presents. …’ Maureen had begun to cry. ‘Is this … all … you … say, accuse me of stealing from you?’

‘Well, the only other alternative … is that you stole them from the shops.’ Eileen’s voice was shaking as she voiced the suspicion.

‘I
bought
them,’ persisted Maureen.

‘God almighty, those hair brushes you gave Sean, they’re over two pounds!’ roared Sean. ‘You’re not leaving this room till we know. Christmas dinner or no Christmas dinner … if I have to shake every bone out of your body, I’ll find out. Don’t treat us like fools.
Bought
them indeed. …’

‘You’ll have to tell us soon or later, your father is right. Tell us now.’

‘I bought you Christmas presents to please you and this is all you say. …’

‘I’m going to go up to Doctor Lynch’s house and see whether their family got fine presents from that Berna of theirs. Maybe the two of you were in this together. Maybe Berna will tell us if you won’t. …’

‘No!’ It was a scream. ‘No Da, don’t go. Please don’t go.’

There were sobs from Eileen, and shocked noises and wailings from Maureen as well as her mother. There was the sound of great slappings and a chair turning over. Elizabeth heard Aunt Eileen pleading with Uncle Sean not to be so hard.

‘Leave her, Sean, leave her till you calm down.’

‘Calm down. Stealing from every other trader in the town. Into their shops with that brat of a Lynch girl. Five shops, five families who’ve done business with us for years and this brat goes in and steals from them. Jesus Christ, what’s there to be calm about … you’re going in to every one of them when the shops open. Every single one of them do you hear, every item will be returned. And the Lynches will be told too, mind that. They’re not going to live in innocence over the pair of thieves we have stalking the town. …’

Elizabeth exchanged a fearful glance with Peggy as they heard another blow and another scream.

‘Don’t you be minding all that now,’ said Peggy. ‘Better not to poke your nose into others’ affairs. Better to hear nothing and say nothing.’

‘I know,’ said Elizabeth. ‘But it’s going to spoil Christmas.’

‘Not at all,’ said Peggy. ‘We’ll have a grand Christmas.’

‘Ah, Da you can’t hit a girl like that, stop it, Da, stop it!’

‘Go away, Sean, I don’t want you here, get out, it’s my business.’

‘Da, you can’t hit Maureen like that, Ma stop him, he’s hit her on the head. Stop it, Da, stop it, you’re too big, you’ll kill her.’

Elizabeth fled from the kitchen and got her new bicycle. Round and round the square she cycled, trying to brush the tears out of her eyes. She didn’t want the others to ask her what was wrong. She had no hope that they would even get together for the goose now. Aunt Eileen had probably gone to the bedroom, Sean gone off out after the row with his father. Uncle Sean might have taken the keys and gone back into the store, and Maureen – heaven knew what would happen to Maureen. It was all turning out badly like everything always did. It was so unfair.

Other children who lived in the square had bicycles too and tricycles and scooters; there were marvellous tales about how Martin Ryan had seen the leg of Santa disappearing up a chimney and Maire Kennedy had heard the reindeer coming into the square. Aisling had already learned how to do tricks on her new bicycle … she was swooping around where the bus would stop on a normal day with both hands spread out wide and her red hair flying behind her. She saw Elizabeth looking at her and pedalled over.

‘What’s wrong, you look sad?’ she asked.

‘No, I’m fine.’

‘Are you thinking of your own family and being a bit lonely?’ Sometimes Aisling got great fits of concern over Elizabeth’s temporary orphan status.

‘Well, a bit,’ Elizabeth lied.

‘You have our family now, and we’ll have a grand Christmas,’ she said firmly.

At that moment, the O’Connors were called from the top of the steps by Eileen.

‘Come on my four. Wash hands and ready for Christmas Feast. …’

She looked quite calm again, Elizabeth thought, and then felt a little lift at being called one of her four. Unwillingly, Eamonn, Donal and Aisling gathered their gifts and left their friends. A cursory hand wash was done and all hands dried simultaneously on a wet towel. The table was all set and Christmas crackers criss-crossed between each plate. As they slid to their places, Aunt Eileen said almost casually, ‘Oh, by the way, there’s been a mistake about some of the presents, could you give Maureen back what she gave you; there was a mistake about some of the prices. It has to be sorted out.’ There was a bit of a grumble, a demand for reassurance that he would still get his bicycle light back from Eamonn. But it was over. The crisis was somehow finished. Maureen’s eyes were very red, and so were Young Sean’s. But no comment was made, and they pulled crackers with everyone else.

And afterwards when there were records on the
gramophone
there was dancing. Everyone danced except Eamonn who said it was silly, but he was in charge of winding up the gramophone which was a great help.

And as Elizabeth saw Uncle Sean dance a waltz with Maureen and noticed her lean her head against his jacket and cry, she thought she would never understand them in a million years.

The new term began with cold weather and Sister Mary in a very bad humour. She had chilblains and wore mittens, her fingers seemed swollen and purple and she had a racking cough. Donal was wheezing again, and Eileen kept him at home.

Maureen had gone to each of the shops where the Christmas gifts had been ‘bought’. In front of Eileen she had handed them back, saying that she had taken them by mistake during her Christmas shopping. Nowhere was she met with anything but kindness. As soon as she left the shop, face burning with shame, the shopkeepers softened the humiliation for Eileen by saying that it was all that young Berna Lynch’s doing, a wild bold strap if ever there was one; of course, with all the trouble the poor mother had with the doctor it was hard to know who to blame. They said that poor Maureen had had enough punishment by having to face them and told Eileen to forget it.

Sean had asked the convent what time Maureen’s classes ended each day and insisted that she be home fifteen minutes later. He asked her to come into the shop and present herself to him and then to return to the house
and
begin her homework. Berna Lynch was not to come inside their home again, and Maureen was not to enter hers.

Young Sean read that in England an Air Training Corps had been started for boys between the ages of sixteen and eighteen. He read it out to his father as proof that seventeen was a man’s age already. His father said that he didn’t care if the British Empire reached into playpens and took their own boys out to fight at the age of four, no son of his, no Irishman of any decency was going to go and fight with them in further attempts to conquer the globe.

Aisling, annoyed by all the efforts to make her less giddy and to extract more work from her, decided that she would organise a baptism for Elizabeth to liven up the term. They fixed the date for 2 February, the Feast of the Purification. Aisling had an instinct that they should keep the baptism a secret. This instinct was shared by the other girls in the class.

It took place on the stone floor of the Junior Girls’ cloakroom, less attractive than the River Jordan where Jesus had his baptism, according to the nice picture in the school corridor. Water from four holy water fonts had been poured into a school mug. Joannie Murray and Aisling had the words of the ceremony written out in case they forgot them … which Elizabeth thought added to the importance and magic of it all. She knelt, and then in front of all the class they poured the water and said, ‘I baptise thee in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost, Amen!’ There was a silence; then they all clapped.

Elizabeth stood up. Her pale hair was stuck to her head, her shoulders were dripping. She didn’t like to rub away the water, as it was holy water and was special. She squeezed Aisling’s hand.

‘Thank you,’ she said.

Aisling put her arm around her.

‘You’ll find it all a lot easier now,’ she said.

Her letters from Mother did not arrive every week. Aunt Eileen’s explanation was always the terrible postal system.