The Grace Girls (29 page)

She lay back in bed, pondering the whole thing, wondering if the dream was some kind of indication that deep down she liked or even fancied the older, more worldly wise Larry Delaney. A man who must be nearly fifteen years older than her. A man who she didn’t know an awful lot about.

Kirsty felt a little shiver and, suddenly conscious of the chilly winter darkness, she snuggled back down under the warm covers. And when she closed her eyes, she slowly drifted back into the heavy and dreamy world where she once again imagined herself wrapped in the strong warmth of Larry Delaney’s arms.

Chapter 32

The morning had started around ten o’clock when the gi
rls got up to collect their childish Christmas stockings – which Sophie still filled with small trinkets she collected over the preceding weeks – and to open their modest pi
les of presents from each other and their parents. There were no presents from aunties and uncles – apart from Claire’s bracelets – as that had stopped when they left school. Given the number of children in the Grace families, cost was a big factor, and the adults had decided some years back that the younger children were the priority as those now working could look after themselves. As always, on their way downstairs they called Sophie and Fintan to come down and open their presents along with them, and then they switched on the three-bar electric fire to warm the chilly living-room until Fintan had lit the coal fire.

Sitting side by side on the sofa, the girls rummaged through their stockings first, finding bars of Avon soap and tins of talcum powder, a diary each, sets of pens for work and other small odds and ends. Then they started on the bigger presents.

‘Oh, brilliant!’ Kirsty stated as she held up the pink towelling Marks and Spencer dressing-gown with white embroidery on the collar that she had hinted to her mother about several weeks ago. She watched, smiling, as Heather opened the same size and shape of parcel to reveal an identical blue dressing-gown. The girls weren’t surprised at receiving several identical gifts, because as long as they could remember, they had always been treated the same.

Heather held up a rectangular-shaped present. ‘Guess which annual?’ she said, grinning at her sister.

Kirsty screwed her eyes up, thinking. ‘Let me see . . . let m
e see. It must be the . . .
Oor Wullie
this year!’ she sudde
nly ca
lculated. The Scottish cartoon book came out every secon
d year, with
The Broons
book on the alternative year. They had received a copy of either one of the annuals every year si
nce they could read the words that went with the pictur
es, and it was the one Christmas gift which Fintan always took upon himself to organise.

Heather ripped the paper off the present to reveal the
G
iles
annual, and they all laughed heartily as Kirsty open
ed hers which was in fact the
Oor Wullie
.

By the time all the wrapping had come off, between them the girls had presents of romantic novels, gloves, scarves, make-up sets, plus numerous bath-cubes and fancy soap sets from friends like Liz.

Sophie was delighted with the joint gift of a lovely navy and white wool Chanel-style suit from the girls, which He
ather had spotted at a bargain price in a shop in Glasgo
w and they had both paid half for. She went into the kitchen to put on the kettle and the grill for toast for the girls, and wa
s delighted with the lovely smell coming from the oven. She opened it to check on the goose, which had been cooking slowly overnight. After poking and prodding it for a bit with a sharp knife to check how far on the cooking process was, she covered the bird up again and turned the temperature up a bit higher to let it brown while she was at church.

Then Sophie suddenly decided to quickly take off her winceyette pyjamas and pull on the navy suit while she was there. A few minutes later she came back to show her daughters it was a perfect fit on her slim figure, and after hugging them both, declared that she would wear it to eleven o’clock Mass that morning.

Fintan was slightly less effusive but still thankful for the shirt and tie the girls had bought him, along with a miniature of Irish whiskey, which they had given him every Christmas since they were little girls. He would – as he always did – have the whiskey in his mug of tea when he came back from Mass, since both he and Sophie were fasting for communion. The women all sat chatting and examining each others’ presents while Fintan raked out the ashes in the grate and started up a fresh fire from the hot cinders, some small pieces of dry wood and screwed-up newspaper.

While their parents went upstairs to get ready for churc
h, the girls went into the cold kitchen to make tea and toast and chat about their plans for the next few days, referring every now and again in whispered tones to the shocking situation that Liz was in. Later, when their mother and father had gone off to Mass and they were on their own, curled up in the chairs at either side of the now-roaring fire, they were able to talk freely.

‘I was delighted when Liz asked me to be a brides
maid,’ Heather told her sister, ‘but I nearly died when she said that Gerry was going to be the best man. It’s not as if I can refuse, it would look terrible, and she might think that I’m just trying to get out of being bridesmaid because she’s expecting.’ She gave a weary sigh. ‘If you were me, how would you feel about having to spend the whole day sitting and even dancing with your ex-boyfriend?’

Kirsty took a bite of her toast and crunched it while she was thinking. ‘Blidey annoyed,’ she finally stated. ‘But with no choice. You’ve got to do it.’ She paused. ‘You’ll probably get invited along with a partner, so why don’t you ask another fella to go with you? It means you’ve got a ready excuse to go over and sit with him and dance and that kind of thing.’

Heather looked sceptical. ‘Who would I ask? And anyway, if I did ask somebody to come with me to the wedding, they would only think I fancied them.’ She took a sip of her tea. ‘I haven’t the foggiest who I could ask . . . and the invitation will likely be just for me. Liz said it’s a small wedding, so they won’t be looking for single people to bring partners.’

‘Well, don’t forget
I
might be there if the band’s free to play at the wedding,’ Kirsty reminded her gleefully, ‘so I’ll keep a close eye on him.’ She paused. ‘Maybe Gerry will bring his new girlfriend and then you won’t need to worry at all. He’ll be too busy looking after her, because she won’t know anybody.’

‘That’s true,’ Heather said, her dark head nodding, but she didn’t sound wholly convinced. ‘It’s just that when I met Jim coming off the train with Liz on Friday, he was going on about how he thought Gerry would still be keen if
I changed my mind –’

‘Och, don’t heed that Jim Murray,’ Kirsty said scornfully. ‘He just wants to see everybody else tied down now, just because he’s landed himself in hot water with Liz.’ Just as she said that, Kirsty suddenly remembered her dream, and felt all funny thinking about it again. Surely, she didn’t really fancy a much older man? How could she?

She wondered now if she should mention it to Heather – just casually ask her what she thought of him, and get the opinion of somebody her own age. But she stopped herself. Heather had only met him briefly once, and didn’t know him well enough to offer any kind of opinion. She would only go on Larry’s looks and his snappy kind of business manner – the things that Kirsty herself had first no
ticed about him. Heather wouldn’t know anything abou
t Larry’s good sense of humour, his intelligence and the lovely cologne that he wore – so maybe it was best to say nothing.

The girls sat opposite another while reading their annuals and dipping into a box of Quality Street, then Heather looked at the clock. ‘We’d better get dressed so that we’re ready for my mammy and daddy coming back from Mass. They said we’d all go over to Mona’s to give Lily her present and see what else she got.’

‘There’s no big rush,’ Kirsty said lazily, her eyes fixed on the cartoon book. She reached across for another chocolate, and then unwrapped the crinkly purple cellophane and popped the caramel and nut sweet in her mouth.

Apart from feeling a tiny bit squeamish with all the chocolate, she was nice and comfortable now by the lovely crackling fire and couldn’t be bothered moving even if it was to see Lily. Another ten minutes wouldn’t make any difference. ‘They’ll probably have a cup of tea and something to eat before they go and my mammy will want to check on the goose and everything. You know what she’s like.’

‘Come on, lazybones!’ Heather said, suddenly grabbing the book out of her hand. ‘I’ll race you up the stairs.’

Chapter 33

Lily Grace was definitely not in a festive mood – in fact,
she was decidedly grumpy considering it was Christmas
Day. ‘That telly’s a load of rubbish,’ she complained, her perky little nose and eyes peeping out from under the quilt that covered her on the settee. Whiskey was curled up at the opposite end of the sofa, his head resting on her feet. ‘I thought children’s programmes were on the whole day, but it’s only for a wee while. It’s a rotten swiz so it is.’ The latter comment was one she’d picked up from the new
Billy Bunter
book that her brother Sean had bought her, and moaning gave Lily the chance to try it out.

‘Never mind complainin’,’ Mona told her briskly, knowing that commiserating with Lily only made her worse. She tucked the pink satin quilt tidily around her daughter, and then planted a kiss on her forehead. ‘You’ve loads of other things you got from Santie to keep you occupied, you’ve got your books and your jigsaws and everything. And there’s plenty of children in this street would be delighted to have a television in their house. Now, just read one of yer books and relax.’

Lily tutted and shifted about under the quilt, then she stretched out as much as her stiff, useless legs would allow, causing Whiskey to whimper a protest. ‘But my arms get too sore tryin’ to hold the books,’ she moaned, ‘and anyways, I’ve nobody to play games with, my daddy and the boys are all at Mass.’

Lily had just discovered that she was missing bits of the busy hospital routine, where there was always somebody to talk to and some of the older children to read to her or play games with her. Even if she couldn’t actually lift the pieces in games like snakes and ladders, the other person took her turn for her, so she could still take part and follow her own progress. She had physiotherapy sessions where she was wheeled up and down the corridors and then up and down floors in the big hospital lift. In between times, there were nurses and porters coming up to her bed asking her how she was doing and making jokes with
her, and some of them even brought her the odd packet of sweets or toffees. The first quiet minutes she’d had in the house now alone with Whiskey and her mother had suddenly made her yearn for the hustle and bustle of the hospital.

‘They’ll all be back from Mass soon,’ Mona said, ‘and Heather and Kirsty will be callin’ over with Sophie and Fintan.’

Lily immediately perked up. ‘Good,’ she said, ‘I’ll be getting my presents off them as well.’ She frowned. ‘I hope nobody else buys me another daft cookery set. Imagine buying me kid-on pots and pans and things, when I can’t even get out of bed to use them! And it’s not only that – they’re not for a girl of ten. Things like that are for weans that think they’re really
cookin’
things.’ She gave an exaggerated, weary sigh. ‘That was an absolutely useless present!’

‘Now, Lily,’ her mother warned, her hands on her hips, ‘Mrs McLaughlin is an old woman, and it was kind of her to think of you at all. You should be more grateful. I think you’re gettin’ a bit too spoiled.’

Lily moved further down beneath the warm quilt. ‘I don’t care if she’s old,’ she said in a muffled voice, ‘it was still a stupid present to buy me.’

The much maligned goose was a good one. Tender, moist a
nd full of flavour – packed with the traditional Irish potat
o-a
nd-onion stuffing and surrounded by golden roast potatoe
s and the usual variety of plain vegetables that the Grace family liked. It was all so good that the girls forgot to make the usual connections between the dreadful, soggy parcel that had been so quickly dispatched to the cold depths of the garden shed, and the delicious, fragrant meat they were now tucking into around the kitchen table.

After the sherry trifle they all moved into the living-room where they listened to the radio for a while. Some time later, after a cup of tea with mince pies and slices of the Christmas cake that Mona baked for all the families every year, Fintan and Sophie moved themselves to go to Pat’s for a game of cards.

‘Are youse sure you won’t come?’ Sophie checked with the girls, feeling slightly awkward at leaving them to their own devices on Christmas Day.

Heather shook her head. ‘I’ve been over twice today already, and Lily will be getting ready for bed soon.’

‘Anyway, it’s boring, and we only end up gettin’ told off for laughing and wasting the game,’ Kirsty put in. ‘But you can tell Lily I’ll come over and have a few games with her tomorrow morning.’

When their parents were gone, Kirsty went over to the polished wooden radiogram, took the crystal vase with the plastic roses on it from the top, and lifted up the lid. ‘We might as well take advantage of the peace and play a wee bit of our own music,’ she said gleefully, ‘without havin’ to listen to my daddy moaning about it all the time.’ A few moments later ‘The Yellow Rose of Texas’ came belting out a
nd that was followed by Bill Haley and
the Comets singing
‘Rock Around the Clock’. The sofa was pushed back and b
oth girls got up to dance to the music until they were falling
into chairs, breathless with the exertion and laughter.