The Grace Girls (25 page)

‘She’s got to at least try it out though,’ Heather said, ‘hasn’t she? I was in a similar position with the job, and I’
m really glad I took it now. Can you imagine my last offic
e taking us out for a fancy Christmas “do” or anything like that?’

‘Was it a nice meal?’ Sophie asked.

‘Fabulous,’ Heather breathed, picturing the Christmas tree and the lovely table in her mind all over again. ‘It was the nicest place I’ve ever been in, and the dinner was beautiful.’

Sophie put her elbows on the table now, intrigued. ‘What did you all have?’

Heather went over the evening in great depth. ‘We had sherry and wine as well,’ she suddenly remembered. ‘Mr Walton paid for all the drinks out of his own pocket.’

Sophie looked warily towards the hallway. ‘Be careful about sayin’ anything about drink to your father,’ she warned in a low voice. ‘He mentioned to me just the other night that he was sure Kirsty had had a few drinks after she’d been out rehearsing.’ She gave a little sigh. ‘He wasn’t a bit happy about it. He said anything can happen to young girls if somebody gives them drink . . . they can be taken advantage of.’

Heather’s brows came down. ‘It’s Christmas, for God’s sake,’ she said, shaking her head in disbelief. Her father could come over all awkward about nothing at times. ‘I could count the number of drinks I’ve had in my life on one hand, and I’ve never seen Kirsty drinking anything with alcohol in it apart from a lemonade shandy.’

‘Well,’ Sophie shrugged, ‘your father worries . . . two young girls goin’ out into the world. And even though you
’re my own, I have to say that you’re not two bad-looking girls either.’ She looked down at her
Woman’s Own
, thinking of some of the articles she had just read. ‘Times are changing, and it’s not just drink. Look at that young Helen Kelly, barely eighteen and having to get married.’

‘Well, there’s no fear of that happening to me or Kirsty,’ Heather said briskly. ‘I want to see a bit of the world before I get tied down, and I’d say Kirsty has bigger ambitions than pushin’ a pram around in the next few years.’

‘Well, I wasn’t suggesting that,’ Sophie said, putting her hand out to cover her daughter’s. She gave it a little squeeze. ‘Oh, by the way,’ she suddenly remembered, ‘you and Kirsty got a Christmas present each in the post.’

‘Who from?’ Heather asked, trying to shrug off the feeling of irritation with her parents. Really, she and Kirsty had given them very little to be worried about over the years, and instead of being grateful for that, her mother and father seemed to grow even more protective – especially her father. You’d think he’d ease off a little especially since it was Christmas.

Sophie went to the ribbed-glass kitchen cabinet and brought out a small box wrapped in gold paper. ‘It’s from your Auntie Claire,’ she said quietly, handing it to her. ‘She sent us a lovely Christmas card and a present each for you and Kirsty.’

‘That was really good of her,’ Heather said, feeling her earlier annoyance draining away, like air seeping slowly from a balloon. ‘She hasn’t sent anything since she got married, has she?’ There weren’t that many adults in the family who gave them presents now the girls were older, and those who still did were greatly appreciated. Sophie
shrugged. ‘She made it quite plain when nobody would go to the wedding that it would be up to us to make the first move.’

There was a little pause. ‘Well,’ Heather sighed, ‘I can see her point. She must have felt really rejected. It must be horrible to be cut off from your family. I couldn’t imagine it.’

‘Well, it’s never going to happen to you, is it?’ Sophie smiled. She looked thoughtful then. ‘Claire has sent Lily things every year since it happened, because she felt she was too young to understand, and because she’s her godchild, but I don’t think Mona told Lily who they were from. And there were one or two things that I don’t think she even gave her. Pat mentioned something about a doll that Mona threw in the bin.’

‘Auntie Mona can be very hard,’ Heather said, giving a loud sigh. ‘She was terrible to Claire at the hospital; it was really, really embarrassing having to sit through it.’

‘She doesn’t mean to be,’ Sophie said, feeling sorry for her bristly sister-in-law. ‘And this Christmas we need to give her a wee bit of leeway, because she’s been under a terrible strain.’

‘She’s always under a strain,’ Heather said in a low voice. ‘She gets too wound up and has to have an opinion on everything.’ She turned the box around in her hands, guessing it was some kind of jewellery because it was the same size and shape as the box that Lily’s gold locket was in. She looked up at her mother, smiling now. ‘Should I keep it until Christmas Day?’

‘It’s up to yourself,’ Sophie told her, relieved that the tension was disappearing between them. She shook her h
ead, laughing. ‘Kirsty opened hers – but then Kirsty’s never had any patience when it comes to waiting for presents. She was delighted with it – they’re really lovely.’ She hesitated. ‘The only thing is, she’s wearing hers tonight,
so you might see it on her if she doesn’t know you’re waiting.’

‘I’ll open it now then,’ Heather suddenly decided. Carefully, she unwrapped the gold paper and then opened the velvet box to reveal a charm bracelet. ‘It’s gorgeous!’ she breathed, lifting it out of the box. It was the sort of thing she had dreamed of having when she was older and with money to spare. The chain had fairly heavy gold links with a heart-shaped lock on it, and she had four charms already dangling from it – a pair of ballet shoes, a lucky dice, a shamrock and a small cross.

‘I felt terrible when Kirsty opened hers,’ Sophie confessed, ‘because we never even thought to send a Christmas card to them. We didn’t have their new address until the other night, and I never gave it a thought.’

‘Maybe we could take a run out over the Christmas week,’ Heather suggested. ‘We could take a nice box of chocolates or something like that. What d’you think? The weather’s good for travelling, it’s been clear every day this week.’

‘We’ll see what your father says,’ Sophie said cau
tiously, ‘and what the weather forecast is sayin’ – it mightn’t stay this mild for much longer. Last year we had sudden snow in January and it lasted for weeks.’

Heather held the bracelet up, examining it more closely. ‘D’you know, Mammy,’ she said in surprise, holding the trinket out for her mother to examine, ‘she has even gone to the trouble of having an “H” engraved on the heart.’

‘Has she?’ Sophie asked, taking it from her. ‘Kirsty never noticed that, we must tell her when she comes in tonight, then you’ll both know how to tell them apart.’ She looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘That’s just typical of Claire Grace – she always took care over the wee details. Even when she was young, she was always a thoughtful girl.’

Heather’s face darkened. ‘But isn’t it terrible that the whole family has turned against her just because she got married to a Protestant?’ She let the charm bracelet trickle back into the box, link by link.

‘It’s not as simple as that, Heather,’ Sophie sighed, hating this sort of discussion with either of the girls, especially around Christmas. ‘Religion causes major problems in families, and we’re actually not as bad as some.’ She paused, trying to find the right words. ‘The Graces have always been staunch Irish Catholics, and to have one of their own turn her back on their religion is awful hard for them to take. Especially when it’s one of the girls.’

‘I still don’t think it’s fair,’ Heather persisted. ‘Andy seemed a nice polite man, and he obviously thinks the world of Auntie Claire.’

‘That’s all true,’ Sophie agreed. ‘But Claire knew what would happen if she married him – she went into it with her eyes wide open.’

Chapter 28

‘
Is there
definitely
no snow?’ Lily asked, as she was being taken in a wheelchair out to the waiting ambulance. ‘I thought we might at least get some snow for Christmas,’ she said in disgust. She was all bundled up in trousers and jumper and a woolly pixie-hat, and wrapped in two warm blankets. There would be no risks taken during this short first visit home.

‘It’s too mild for snow, hen,’ the young nurse accompanying her said kindly, as they came to a standstill beside the open door of the waiting ambulance. ‘And we don’t get snow
every
Christmas. As least we won’t be slipping and sliding getting you in and out of the ambulance.’

‘Aye, I suppose so . . .’ Lily said, but there was an ungracious note in her voice, because she really didn’t ‘suppose so’ at all. Christmas wasn’t the same without snow,
everybody
knew that.

‘All ready, Miss Grace?’ the kindly ambulance driver asked. She giggled at being called
Miss Grace
and nodded, and then he and the nurse came either side of the wheelchair and very gently lifted Lily out.

They carried her up the three fold-down metal steps, their feet clanging as they went, and into the ambulance, where she was then seated on a long, soft bench. It reminded Lily of the kneelers in the church. Something soft on top of something hard.

Then she looked around her at the other two people in the ambulance – a man about the same age as her daddy and a girl with pale red, straight hair about the same age as Kirsty or maybe even Heather. The girl had a white plaster on her arm and a white sling supporting it.

Lily smiled across at them, thinking how much she was looking forward to being home.

‘Are you all right, hen?’ the man asked kindly.

‘Aye,’ she answered, her curls bobbing up and down. ‘I’m fine now, thanks.’ She wondered what the man was doing in an ambulance; he didn’t look as if he had anything wrong with him at all. She scrutinised him a bit more – her eyes narrowed a little – but came to the same conclusion. He didn’t look as if he had a single thing wrong with him. Maybe he was just getting a lift home in the ambulance, she decided.

‘And are ye lookin’ forward to Santie comin’?’ the man asked now.

Lily nodded her head vigorously.

The nurse wrapped the blankets tightly around Lily’s top half, keeping her weak arms well supported. Then a moment or two later, the ambulance shuddered into life, and set off towards the hospital gates. ‘She’s a great lassie, this one,’ the young nurse said, putting a hand up to check that her navy hat with the badge was still clipped in place. ‘I don’t know what they’re going to do in that ward without her. She kept the whole place going – she was even singing for them all last night.’

‘Well, ye see,’ Lily said, her blue eyes more expressive now she couldn’t use her hands in the same way, ‘it was only
easy
Christmas carols, and we learn the
exact
same ones in school every year.’

‘And are you a good singer?’ the red-headed girl asked, joining in.

There was a little pause while the younger girl thought. ‘Well, I wouldn’t like to say it
maself
. . .’ she said modestly, batting her eyelids. ‘It’s different if other people say – but if I said I was a good singer, then that would be
really
showin’ off.’ She paused. ‘My big cousin Kirsty is a real singer on the stage, right enough – an’ sometimes people say I take after her.’

The man suddenly started laughing, and shaking his head. ‘You’re a right wee blether, aren’t you?’ he said. ‘I’d say they’ll all be glad to get you home for Christmas.’

‘I hope so,’ she said. ‘I’ve been in it for weeks an’ I was just gettin’ a bit fed up.’

‘And why were you in the hospital, hen?’ he enquired.

The nurse lifted her head sharply to look at him, but it was too late.

‘That oul’ polio thing,’ Lily said, very matter-of-fact, looking across at the girl now. She wondered if her arm was broken or just hurt. She decided it must be broken or she woudn’t have the stookie plaster on it.

The man’s jaw dropped and he looked mortified at having asked such a tactless question. Polio was not a subject people touched on lightly. ‘Och, I’m really sorry, hen,’ he said, all flustered, looking from Lily to the nurse. ‘I’d never have asked . . . I thought it was just a bad dose of flu. There’s a lot of it goin’ about.’

‘It’s all right,’ Lily said, wishing she could see out of the blacked-out ambulance window to check where they were. ‘The doctor said I’ll soon be back to my old self.’

They were all waiting for her. Most of the family was watching for the ambulance from the window in the ho
use, while the two younger lads, Patrick and Declan, were
hanging about with a crowd of youngsters by the gate.

Sophie and Fintan and the girls had decided to wait until she’d had a wee while with her own family, but were also watching for the ambulance from their own window.

‘You wouldn’t believe the crowd that came into the chemist this morning,’ Kirsty said, taking a bite out of her roll and cheese. ‘All the men – lookin’ for last-minute Christmas presents for their wives.’ She gave a derisory giggle. ‘Half the women in Rowanhill don’t know that I en
ded up picking their Christmas presents for them. They’ll all be walking around smelling of the same perfume
, for there’s not much choice in Simpson’s. It’s either 4711, Cusson’s Lilac Blossoms or Evening in Paris.’

‘They’re all lovely perfumes,’ Heather said. ‘I wouldn’t mind any of them myself.’ She couldn’t resist a joke at her father’s expense. ‘And it’s far better than getting a new teapot.’