The Girl From Paradise Alley (ARC)

by Sandy Taylor

  ‘Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, Stevie.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘There is a way to travel beyond this town. Sure, I’ve been all over the world without stepping one foot outside Ballybun.’

  Stevie smiled. ‘And how did you manage that?’

  ‘Books, Stevie, books. You can go anywhere you want. You can sail the seas in a great big boat. You can be the hero in any adventure, you can stand on the very top of a high mountain and look down on the world below you. You can go anywhere you like and all within the pages of a book. Will you give books a try?’

  ‘I suppose I’m going to have to,’ he said, grinning.

  ‘Let’s go and find one then,’ I said, standing up and helping him to his feet. ‘As long as you learn to love books, I won’t ask for anything else.’

  ‘It’s a deal,’ he said and we linked arms and walked back to the house.

  * * *

  It was the last weekend of the holidays, and it was time to go back to the garden. I had to explain to Eddie why I’d been away. It didn’t bother me squeezing through the gap in the fence anymore. I was smiling as I ran down the path and pushed open the gate. Eddie was in the far corner of the garden, painting a bench. He jumped up when he saw me.

  ‘You came back then?’ he said, grinning.

  I pushed the gate closed behind me. ‘I was staying at my granny and grandad’s farm. I expect you’ve been wondering where I was?’

  ‘I knew where you were, Nora.’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘This is a small town and even at the Hall, I get to hear the gossip.’

  ‘So, you knew about Stevie?’

  Eddie nodded. ‘And I’ve heard that he is on the mend.’

  ‘He is, but we could have lost him, Eddie.’

  Eddie balanced the brush on the tin of paint and stood up. ‘It must have been hard on you all. I thought about you, Nora. I missed you, and I hoped that you were okay.’

  ‘I missed you too,’ I said, smiling.

  ‘I’d say the garden missed you as well.’

  ‘Do gardens have feelings?’ I said.

  Eddie looked around him and smiled. ‘I believe this one does.’

  ‘Where did you get the bench from?’

  ‘Corny gave it to me; it was rotting away and he was going to burn it. He showed me how to sand it down and now all it needs is a coat of paint. I thought it would give us somewhere to sit when the grass is wet.’

  ‘I like the colour.’

  ‘Irish green,’ he said.

  ‘Give me your hankie, Eddie,’ I said, smiling again. ‘You have a blob of paint on your nose.’

  Eddie laughed and handed me a perfectly ironed white square of linen. He seemed to have no end of them. I spat on it and gently rubbed the paint from his face. ‘Can I help?’

  ‘I’ll get another brush,’ he said.

  I watched Eddie disappear through the gate and sat down beside the pond. I dipped my fingers in the water, stirring the leaves that had fallen from the trees and making them spin around as if they’d just woken up. I looked up at the tall trees swaying above my head. I’d missed this place and I’d missed my good friend. The last time I’d seen him, we’d been about the same height, but he’d grown over the summer and was now a good head taller than me, even though he was a year younger.

  I’d felt drawn to this boy from the moment he’d burst through the brambles and frightened the life out of me and Kitty. He’d felt familiar to me, even though we had never met. He seemed to understand me. He never commented on my fancy words, because they were the same words that he used. I supposed that living at the Hall and having his schooling there had lifted him out of the class that he had been born into.

  I looked up as Eddie came back through the gate, carrying a paintbrush and a pair of gloves.

  ‘Wear these,’ he said, handing me the gloves. ‘Then you won’t have to explain the green paint on your hands.’

  I took the gloves. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Come and have a look around,’ he said.

  We walked round the garden together. It looked completely different to the last time I’d seen it. Grass that had been young and bright green at the beginning of the summer was older and browner now, littered with fallen leaves; red and gold and brown.

  Where there had been bare patches of soil in the flower beds, now every inch was taken up with flowers and plants. Most of the flowers were over, but there were slashes of pink and purple, where the tough little geraniums still kept producing blooms and Michaelmas daisies were nodding their raggedy little blue heads up against the old brick wall.

  ‘They’re a bit wild,’ Eddie said, as if apologising for the flowers.

  ‘Oh no,’ I said, ‘they’re just happy. Look at them! Look at their happy faces!’

  He laughed.

  Plants that had barely begun to grow the last time I was here were now tall and the flowers had turned into seedpods, ready to start making the next year’s flowers. Eddie showed me the little dry bells at the tops of the long stalks of the granny’s bonnets. He told me that aquilegia was their proper name, and that they’d self-seeded all over the garden. He shook the stalk and held his hand out flat beneath the bell and dozens of little black seeds fell into his palm.

  ‘That’s how they do it,’ he said, ‘that’s how they spread. They grow beautiful flowers in the summer to attract the bees and in the autumn, they wait for the breeze to come and shake out the seeds. Clever, eh?’

  I agreed that it was.

  He’d pulled up some of the flowers that had ‘gone over’, as he put it. The compost heap was high, but anything that still had a bit of life left in it was allowed to have its last moments in the sun.

  The air was cool with that smell of autumn, a smell I’d always loved. Spiders had spun their webs in the shrubs – funny how you only ever noticed the webs at that time of year – and there were still a few late blackberries on the brambles in the wild area.

  The fruit trees had done their work too. Eddie said there’d been a grand crop of pears in the late summer. The apple tree was still bearing apples even as its leaves were turning from green to red. The fallers had been raked into a pile where the thrushes and blackbirds could come and eat their fill.

  As we walked, a light wind sprang up and it lifted some leaves from the trees. They danced in the air for a moment and then began to spin down to earth.

  ‘Catch one!’ Eddie cried. ‘Catch a falling leaf! It’s good luck!’

  ‘That’s an old wives’ tale!’

  ‘No,’ he said, ‘it’s true!’

  I reached out for a leaf that was spinning towards me but as I grabbed for it, it spun away.

  ‘It’s harder than it looks!’ Eddie said.

  We spent the next minutes chasing after falling leaves and soon we were both laughing and I was breathless and warm.

  Sixteen

  Me and Kitty were back at school, but we both knew it would not be for long, for things were about to change. We would soon be fourteen and no longer children.

  We were sitting on top of the hill above the town looking down on the river.

  ‘It’s awful boring now that Finn has gone back to England,’ said Kitty.

  I hadn’t told her about my meetings with Finn Casey up at the farm; I didn’t want to hurt her feelings or make her feel jealous.

  ‘He said he’d write to me though,’ she said.

  ‘Did he?’

  ‘Well, he didn’t exactly say he would but I asked if he would write to me and he didn’t say no, so I took it as a yes.’

  ‘I hope he does then, Kitty,’ I said.

  ‘Well, I’m not holding my breath, Nora. I find that boys are very fickle and I doubt that Finn Casey is any different to the rest of them, even though he does look like a god.’

  ‘I suppose that even gods can be fickle, but maybe Finn will be the exception to the rule.’

  ‘Grandad Doyle?’

  I nodd
ed. ‘It means that he might turn out to be different to the rest.’

  ‘I’ve a feeling that he’ll forget me once he’s back with his own kind.’

  ‘How could anyone forget you, Kitty Quinn?’ I said, putting my arm around her shoulder. ‘For you’re the biggest catch in Ballybun.’

  ‘I don’t know about that, Nora, but thank you for saying it.’

  ‘The pair of us will be working soon,’ I said, ‘and who knows what the good Lord has in store for us.’

  ‘Are you going to ask at the hotel about a job?’ asked Kitty. ‘You should do it soon, before anyone else gets in before you.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ I said.

  ‘You don’t sound too keen,’ said Kitty.

  ‘Well, it’s better than the workhouse.’

  ‘I have an appointment up at the Hall, Nora.’

  ‘Since when?’

  ‘Since you were staying up at the farm and Father Kelly wrote to them about me.’

  ‘Are you scared?’ I said.

  ‘I’m bloody terrified. Oh, I wish we could work there together, Nora. Couldn’t you ask your mammy? Maybe she’s had a change of heart.’

  ‘I doubt it and she’s had enough worry with Stevie without me asking a question that I already know the answer to.’

  ‘It’ll have to be the hotel, then. Shall we go there now? We could go to Minnie’s and see Annie and treat ourselves to a grand cup of tea. Minnie might even have an old bun that we could take off her hands.’

  ‘Annie won’t be there,’ I said.

  ‘Is she ill?’

  ‘No, but Mrs Foley is and Annie needs to work closer to home so she can keep an eye on her.’

  ‘She’ll have a job finding work near Paradise Alley.’

  ‘She already has, Kitty. My mammy needs help with Stevie and Malachi and she’s offered her a job.’

  ‘Isn’t that grand? She’ll be just up the lane from Mrs Foley,’ said Kitty.

  ‘I know, it’s great, isn’t it?’

  ‘I think your mammy is kind, Nora.’

  ‘I think so too.’

  I stood up. ‘Come on then,’ I said. ‘We might as well get it over with.’

  ‘Let’s go the long way around,’ said Kitty. ‘It will put off the inevitable.’

  I stared at my friend. ‘Oh, Kitty,’ I said, ‘where did you learn such a refined word? Is it one of Grandad Doyle’s?’

  ‘It is not, Nora, it’s one of my own.’

  ‘And where did you learn it?’

  ‘I was in Biddy Quirk’s shop getting some sweets when mouth almighty Mrs Toomey came in.’

  ‘God, she’s an awful gossip,’ I said.

  ‘She was talking about Maureen Barrie’s new baby, who as you know, God love him, looks like a suet pudding in a bonnet. Well, anyway, she said that it was inevitable that the baby was the size of a house, with the amount of food Maureen shovelled down his throat.’

  ‘I’m proud of you, Kitty, for not only did you remember the word but you used it in the right place. It would be very dignified if you could manage to slip it into the conversation when you go for your interview at the Hall. I’d say that they would be mighty impressed.’

  ‘I’ll give it a go, Nora.’

  We walked quickly down the hill. We had decided not to run everywhere, at the same time as we decided not to go to any more funerals. It was all a part of leaving childish things behind us.

  We made our way round the back lanes. The cottages were very humble in this part of the town. Women were gathered in huddles, leaning against the walls, their cross-over pinnies looking as if they needed a good wash. Small children swarmed around their feet; one child was sailing a paper boat along the gutter. Everywhere smelled bad and I was beginning to wish we hadn’t come this way.

  We walked further down the lane and turned into Baggot Row. I stopped and stared at the last cottage. On the side of the wall, in white chalk, was written, Dymphna Duffy Lives Here.

  ‘What are you staring at?’ asked Kitty.

  ‘Isn’t that the most dignified thing you ever saw, Kitty?’

  Kitty stared at the wall and shook her head. ‘What in God’s name are you on about?’

  ‘Can’t you see?’

  ‘See what?’

  ‘Dymphna Duffy is proud of who she is.’

  Kitty was looking at me as if I’d gone mad. ‘And how do you work that out?’

  ‘Don’t you see, Kitty? Dymphna Duffy has been saddled with a name that would make a saint curse, and she’s lumbered with it until the day she marries.’

  ‘If she marries.’

  ‘Not only has she got a terrible name but she has no friends and people call her pie face.’

  ‘Well, her face is a bit pie-like, Nora.’

  ‘But that’s not Dymphna’s fault, is it? It’s the way God made her.’

  ‘That’s the bit I don’t understand. It says in the Bible that God made us in his own image and likeness and I don’t know about you, but I’ve never seen a picture of him that resembles a pie.’

  ‘You’re missing the point, Kitty. Dymphna has all that to put up with and yet despite it all, she is proud of who she is. Proud enough to let the whole town know that her name is Dymphna Duffy and that this is where she lives. There is a kind of nobility in that, Kitty.’

  ‘Nora?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’m beginning to think that you read too many books. It’s making you desperate fanciful.’

  I laughed. ‘Come on, let’s see if there’s any jobs going at the hotel.’

  I couldn’t get Dymphna out of my head as we headed out along the Strand. I had the feeling that there was more to Dymphna Duffy than met the eye and was determined to try and get to know her better if the opportunity should present itself.

  As we walked towards the Green Park Hotel, I wished that I was wearing my good coat.

  ‘I’m not dressed for an interview, Kitty. I’m not going to make much of an impression in these old clothes.’

  ‘You’ll be grand, Nora.’

  We pushed open the glass doors and walked into the lobby. Theresa Duggan was sitting behind the desk, made up to the nines. She’d only left school a year ago and she was acting as if she was a woman of the world.

  ‘What?’ she snapped.

  ‘Well, that’s a nice way to talk to a customer,’ said Kitty.

  ‘Well, my guess is that you’re not customers,’ said Theresa, examining her nails as if she’d only just discovered she had them.

  ‘I’ve come about a job,’ I said. ‘Are there any going?’

  ‘Well, you can’t just walk in off the street and expect to be given a job,’ said Theresa.

  ‘How else was she supposed to get in here?’ said Kitty. ‘Down the chimney?’

  ‘Don’t be saucy,’ said Theresa. ‘Anyway, there are procedures, you have to fill in a form.’

  Theresa was talking as if she’d swallowed a plum.

  ‘What’s with the English accent?’ said Kitty, giggling.

  Theresa went red in the face. ‘I haven’t got an English accent,’ she snapped.

  ‘Have you a problem with your teeth then?’

  ‘My teeth are perfectly fine, thank you very much.’

  I was beginning to feel a bit sorry for Theresa. ‘How about this form then?’ I said.

  Theresa rummaged under the desk and took out a sheet of paper. She licked the end of a pencil and stared at me. ‘Name?’ she said.

  ‘For God’s sake, Theresa, you’ve known me all your life, why are you asking my name?’

  ‘I have to ask you what’s written on the form.’

  ‘My name, as well you know, is Nora Doyle.’

  ‘Middle name?’

  ‘Why do you need my middle name?’

  Theresa sucked on her teeth and glared at me. ‘Because it’s on the bloody form.’

  ‘Okay, Theresa,’ said Kitty. ‘Cop on to yerself. Her middle name is Mary, after her mother’s friend, who went down w
ith the Titanic. Happy now, dear?’

  Theresa took a deep breath. ‘Where do you live?’

  ‘She lives in the same alley as you, ya eejit,’ said Kitty.

  Theresa ignored her. ‘What sort of work are you looking for?’

  ‘Anything, I don’t mind what I do.’

  ‘Right,’ she said, folding the sheet of paper in half.

  ‘I’ll wait to hear then, shall I?’

  ‘Don’t build your hopes up, Nora Doyle. The manager is very selective about who he takes on.’

  ‘He can’t be that selective,’ said Kitty. ‘Or I doubt that you’d be sitting behind the desk, posing mad and talking like one of the British royal family. Come on, Nora, I can’t abide the smell of cheap perfume.’

  We were giggling as we went to Minnie’s.

  ‘Isn’t Theresa Duggan an awful gobshite?’ said Kitty.

  ‘You’re right she is, but I think she’ll have the last laugh, because I have a feeling that that form will be going nowhere but into the nearest bin.’

  ‘I think you’re right, Nora. It will have to be the laundry then.’

  ‘Hello, girls,’ said Minnie, as we stepped inside the café. ‘You look as though you lost a shilling and found a penny.’

  ‘It’s worse than that, Minnie,’ I said. ‘I was hoping for a job at the hotel but the pair of us have just blown my chances with that stuck-up little madam, Theresa Duggan.’

  ‘She has airs alright,’ said Minnie. ‘Her mother was the same.’

  ‘So, I’m going to have to work in the laundry and I have no mind to work there.’

  ‘I’m going for a job at the Hall, Minnie,’ said Kitty, ‘but Nora’s mammy won’t let her anywhere near the place.’

  ‘Is it tea you’re wanting?’ asked Minnie, changing the subject.

  I nodded.

  ‘And any old cakes you might want taking off your hands,’ said Kitty.

  Minnie laughed. ‘Well, I suppose if you don’t ask, you won’t get and as it happens, I do have a couple of buns that are past their best.’

  ‘That’s good of you, Minnie, and we’ll be glad to do you a favour,’ said Kitty.

  ‘Sit yourselves down then and I’ll bring them over.’