Finishing Touches

by Patricia Scanlan

  And rightly so, thought the beleaguered priest, if the carry-on of this lot was anything to go by. The day women entered the priesthood would be the day he was gone. Forty years of avoiding them had not endeared the species to Father Maurice. ‘I certainly don’t think any such thing. Men and women were created differently. Each sex has a specific role to play in life. God loves all his children equally.’

  ‘Do you think that priests should be allowed to marry? After all, some of the twelve apostles were married. And surely it would give them more experience of the problems faced by married couples, such as contraception?’ Cassie was only getting into her stride.

  ‘I think we should stick to questions and answers regarding our discussion of this morning. None of you has asked me any questions regarding, say, the missing of Mass. Profanity. The honouring of your father and mother.’ Father Maurice tried to steer the conversation to more innocuous matters. Aileen’s eyes glinted with devilment. She stood up once more.

  Father Maurice paled. Not her again!

  ‘Speaking of fathers and mothers, how can the church justify interfering in the private lives of married couples?’

  He couldn’t take any more! He’d had enough of these she-devils. He’d plead illness. Anything to get away from them. They didn’t know the meaning of the words ‘young ladies.’ The savagery of them at that tea-trolley. The questions they were asking. What were they teaching in secondary schools these days? French kissing! Contraception! They were only fourteen! He hadn’t known anything about such matters until he had gone into the seminary Father Maurice wrung his bony little hands together, glaring at Aileen, who stood waiting for her answer.

  The arrival of the second tea-trolley of the day saved his bacon. Interfering between married couples was forgotten in the mad dash to the biscuits. Father Maurice hoped they choked on them. God forgive him. He would have to go to confession to seek absolution for the thoughts of hatred that surged through him at this very moment. Let somebody else take them on tomorrow. He’d had enough. He left them doing battle at the trolley. After half an hour, when he figured it should be safe to return, he appeared at the door and told them they could go home, as the retreat was finished for that day. There were howls of delight and he had to step aside smartly or he would have been crushed to pieces in the mad scramble to get out the door. Crazy hoydens, that’s what they were. God grant he’d never meet their like again.

  The following day, much to the dismay of Class 3S, there was neither discussion nor question-and-answer session. They had a Mass followed by a morning of silent reflection. After lunch they were shown a film of the works of the order in the third world.

  They had never been so bored in their lives and it was almost a relief to get back to school the following day.

  Mother Perpetua was waiting for them.

  ‘You girls are a disgrace to this school,’ she ranted. ‘I saw you! Oh yes, I saw you. Dressed like trollops . . . like common hussies, hanging around the gates of the Priory. You, Miss Quinn, in your tight T-shirt and you, Miss Jordan, in a skirt that left nothing to the imagination. And as for Aileen O’Shaughnessy! Words fail me! Fail me! I have no control of you outside of school but,’ she paused for effect and stared at them with her little beady eyes, ‘I’m going to keep a tight rein on you, 3S. You’ll be young ladies by the time I’m finished with you.’

  Thank God there are only a few weeks left and then we’ll be free of her for practically three whole months, Cassie comforted herself as she made her way home after listening to Mother Perpetua’s tirade. She was really looking forward to her summer holidays. In June and July she was going to work full-time in the sweetshop in the town where she sometimes helped out on Saturday mornings, and in August she and Laura were going to go on a day-trip to the Isle of Man. After that they were going to spend a week in Wicklow in a mobile home owned by Laura’s aunt. They were looking forward to it so much. A holiday by themselves to do as they pleased! What absolute bliss.

  Then Nora had earmarked her to help to wallpaper the sitting-room and paint the kitchen. Cassie didn’t mind the idea of that at all; in fact she rather looked forward to it. During the boring days of the retreat, she had filled a notebook with drawings of houses and sitting-rooms and bedrooms. It had passed the time very pleasantly to sit and draw and work out colour schemes. She really enjoyed doodling. Art was definitely her favourite subject. Miss Carey, her art teacher, was very encouraging and told her she had good colour sense. If only Nora would let her decorate the bedroom in pink and grey. It would be really lovely. But of course, Barbara had objected and said she wanted it done in blue! Blue in a north-facing bedroom. A complete disaster! Warm colours were what was required and she had seen the most beautiful idea in a book on interior design that she had got out of the local library. Maybe if she let Barbara borrow the denim mini to go to that dance, she might let her have her way with the colours . . .

  Barbara was thrilled with the offer of the mini. ‘Thanks, Cassie, you’re brill!’ she exclaimed.

  Cassie laid down the conditions of the loan. ‘You can have it if you let me decorate the room in pink and grey.’

  ‘Can I have the purple ribbed polo-neck?’ Barbara demanded.

  ‘OK,’ Cassie said grudgingly. Typical of Barbara to twist the knife.

  ‘You can decorate the room in mauve and scarlet then, for all I care.’

  Cassie was delighted.

  The last few weeks of term slipped by uneventfully enough. 3S were putting in some serious study for their exams. They didn’t want bad reports going home, that was for sure. They knew that Perpetua’s comments on their report cards would be damning. But by and large, the rest of their teachers had no trouble from them, and the one bad comment might be overlooked among the list of eight or nine on the report card.

  Next year they would not be able to take things so lightly as they would be doing their Intermediate Certificate, the first important exam of their schooldays. It would be the end of the free and easy days they were enjoying as third years. She had really enjoyed this year at school, Cassie decided, as they all trooped into their classroom on the day they got their holidays. Their term exams were over and most of them felt they had done OK, so they weren’t stressed or worried about them. Mind, Aileen had made a terrible bloomer in her Honours English paper, confusing Keats and Shelley. And Miss Ryan had told her if she kept her mind more on her studies and less on entertaining the class she’d be better off. Aileen had been annoyed by the ticking-off and had stuck a note on the back of her English teacher’s black gown saying in large red letters: I’m Randy.

  Miss Ryan had walked through the main corridor and taken two classes before anyone in authority copped it. There had been delicious uproar at the discovery! Poor Mother Perpetua didn’t understand quite what the fuss was about until someone explained it to her. She retreated to her bed that afternoon and took two and a half valium! Needless to say the culprit was never found and everyone had to stay back after school for two hours. But it was worth it, all were agreed!

  As the final bell of term went, a huge cheer reverberated through the entire school as the young ladies of Saint Imelda’s danced and sang and charged down the driveway to freedom and a whole summer of bliss.

  Four

  Nora was always going mad at the untidiness of the bedroom shared by Cassie and Barbara. Cassie had been allowed to decorate it in pretty shades of pink and grey and she was so pleased with her colour scheme that for a while she made huge efforts to keep it tidy, despite Barbara’s complete refusal to cooperate. But that was over two years ago now and Cassie’s resolve had gradually weakened. One Friday, when Cassie arrived in from school, tired and fed up after a hard day, she found her mother in a bad humour. Nora just exploded.

  ‘Your Aunt Elsie is coming tomorrow and staying for a week and I don’t know how many times I’ve asked you to tidy up that bedroom of yours. The pair of you should be ashamed of yourselves. The place is a kip. Well, I can tell you one thin
g, Miss! You and Barbara had better get that room tidy tonight. And you needn’t think you’re going out, either. You can clean the brasses for me and that other one can do some of that pile of ironing.’

  ‘Ah Mam!’ protested Cassie, stung by the unfairness of it all. Her part of the room was reasonably tidy. Most of her clothes were hanging up, apart from a pair of jeans or two and her windcheater. Barbara, on the other hand, had more stuff on her bed and on the floor than she had in her wardrobe. Nora occasionally did a hit-and-run clean sweep of the place, much to Barbara’s consternation.

  In most other ways, their mother was pretty easygoing, but when Aunt Elsie decided to come and visit, the entire Jordan family suffered. Aunt Elsie was Nora’s eldest sister. She was unmarried, strict and humourless, and her house was like a little palace. Only a foolhardy speck of dust dared make an appearance in that spick-and-span abode; if it did it was instantly annihilated. Of course, it was all right for Aunt Elsie; she had nothing else to do but polish and clean, unlike her sister Nora, who had a family to look after, and who also helped her husband to run a farm. She didn’t have time to worry about every speck of dust that appeared in the Jordan household. Yet always when Nora heard that her sister was coming on a visit, the house was turned upside-down and inside-out as a marathon spring-cleaning got underway. Even Jack dreaded his sister-in-law’s visits as he saw his wife becoming harassed and agitated. Elsie was very quick to pass remarks and would not hesitate to comment on anything that caught her eye. She had once chastised her younger sister for having a slightly crooked hem on the gingham table-cloth that covered the kitchen table. Invariably Elsie would make some comment that would leave Nora angry and upset and she would be even more determined to make sure that her sister found no fault with the place on her next visit.

  The news of an impending visit by Aunt Elsie cast gloom on the entire family, Cassie most of all because she was always called upon to do the lion’s share of the cleaning. At times like this it was a real pain in the neck being the eldest. How could her mother be so mean as to stop her going to Kate Rooney’s birthday party just because Barbara had left their room in a state as usual.

  ‘I’ll tidy up the room and do the brasses before I go out,’ Cassie said quickly, getting the Brasso out of the press under the sink as a sign of her goodwill.

  ‘Did you hear what I said, young lady?’ Nora was not to be trifled with. ‘No-one, not you, not Barbara, not John, is going out tonight. This house has to be cleaned from top to bottom. And judging by the state of your rooms, you’ll all be lucky to get to bed!’ she said irritably.

  ‘But Mam!’ wailed Cassie. ‘It’s Kate Rooney’s seventeenth birthday. She’s the first in the class to be seventeen and Laura and Aileen and all the gang will be there.’ Cassie forbore to mention that Donie Kiely was going to be at the party as well. She was crazy about him and she felt he was equally interested in her.

  ‘Laura and Aileen don’t have Aunt Elsie coming to stay. And I’m sure that their rooms are not like tip-heaps. Don’t argue with me, like a good girl. I’m far too busy. Leave those brasses and get your room cleaned first, please.’

  ‘It’s mostly Barbara’s mess! For crying out loud! It will take me only ten minutes to clean my part.’ Cassie was starting to lose her temper.

  ‘Don’t speak to me in that tone of voice, Miss!’ her mother warned.

  ‘Well, I’m sick of having to do everything around here and I’m sick of getting the blame for Barbara’s mess. It’s just not fair and you’re being totally unreasonable. I’ll be the only one not at that party tonight!’ Cassie’s eyes glittered as she glared at her mother.

  ‘I don’t want any more of your cheek, Cassie, and let that be an end to it.’ Nora was as annoyed as Cassie as she turned back to peeling the potatoes for the dinner. With tears misting her eyes, Cassie slammed the kitchen door behind her and flounced along the hall towards her bedroom at the far end of the bungalow. She was sick of living in this house. It was always the same. Was Nora one bit grateful for all the housework Cassie did for her, week in, week out? Just because she was the eldest there was no reason to treat her like a slave! Cassie slammed her bedroom door behind her, wallowing in self-pity.

  The party tonight was going to be a real rave-up. Kate Rooney’s parents were very liberal; they were going into Dublin to a meal and they told Kate they trusted her. They even allowed her to invite boys to the party. And Donie Kiely was invited. Cassie had fancied him for ages. She often saw him at the Saturday-night disco. He was always looking at her and smiling at her. Tonight could have been the night they clicked. And now Nora had put her foot down and Cassie was going to be stuck at home like Cinderella. It just wasn’t fair! Didn’t her mother realize that she was going to be seventeen herself in a few weeks. Practically into her twenties. She shouldn’t be treating her like a child any more because she most definitely wasn’t a child.

  Cassie glowered at her reflection in the wardrobe mirror. Soft chestnut curls with glints of auburn framed a well-defined face. Cassie had great cheekbones, all the girls at school said so. Her hazel eyes, flecked with green, ringed by silky dark lashes, were her best feature. Her mouth was too big, she thought glumly, her button-nose a disaster. She supposed her figure wasn’t too bad: a neat bosom, a nice curvy waist, slim hips and legs that were shapely from all the basketball she played. It was certainly not the body of a child. Laura’s father, Peter Quinn, was always giving her funny looks and finding an excuse to touch her. He really gave Cassie the creeps. Laura had told Cassie in disgust that her father read dirty magazines. It didn’t surprise Cassie in the slightest!

  She had planned to wear her new trousers and a very sophisticated grey-and-red jumper that she had bought in the sale in Roches. Now, thanks to blooming Aunt Elsie, Nora and Barbara, she wouldn’t get the chance.

  Well, things were going to change. She was going to start asserting herself more. After all, she was practically grown up. The first thing she was going to do was to tell her mother she wanted to swap bedrooms with Irene. Why should Irene get away with having her own bedroom? She was the youngest. Surely it was Cassie who was entitled to a bedroom of her own. Then, with her own room, she would be able to keep it perfectly tidy and Nora would finally realize that it was Barbara who was the main culprit as regards untidiness.

  Irene probably wouldn’t be too happy about moving but that was just tough. Her young sister had a small room just across the hallway. In it, she resided with dozens of soft cuddly toys, which were lined up neatly on shelves. Irene, a dainty little blonde who was timid and shy, also had a streak of stubbornness. If she dug her heels in and said she didn’t want to move, Nora would say that was all right and leave her where she was. She was very protective and was always making a fuss of her. Irene loved being made a fuss of, especially when she got one of her asthma attacks. She would quite happily stay in bed, wrapped in her mother’s quilted dressing-gown, playing away with her toys, delighted to be missing a day of school, while Nora prepared tasty little treats for her in the kitchen. ‘Irene’s a bit delicate,’ Cassie often heard her mother tell friends. Delicate, my foot! she thought. None of the rest of them had been allowed to stay at home from school half as much as Irene. But she could understand why Nora treated Irene the way she did. As a baby she had nearly died from pneumonia, and ever since, Nora had taken the utmost care of her little girl. There was something about Irene that made people want to protect her. Maybe she was a bit mean wanting to make her share a bedroom with Barbara.

  ‘There, you see! You’re doing it again!’ Cassie spoke crossly to herself as she hung up her jeans. ‘Making things easy for Irene! Why should Irene have things made easy for her? Why shouldn’t I make things easy for myself? I am a person too!’ She glanced over at her Desiderata poster. ‘You are a child of the universe,’ she hummed. ‘No less than the trees and the stars you have the right to he here . . .’ Laura had given her the poster for her sixteenth birthday last year and Cassie really treasured it. Y
es, indeed, she decided, she had as much right to her own bedroom as Irene had, and once Aunt Elsie was gone she was going to ask about it. In her mind’s eye she began to decorate it. Pink and grey, her favourite colours, but she would make sure that it didn’t look too like her present bedroom. Fashions in interior design were changing all the time. She would put a border on the wallpaper and have a pink candlewick bedspread with small grey scatter cushions on the bed. She’d paint the door, skirting-boards and windowsill grey as well, to contrast with the pink walls. She had seen a beautiful room done like that in a magazine in the doctor’s waiting-room. She had liked it so much that she had surreptitiously torn out the page and brought it home with her to put in her folder.

  Cassie always kept a folder into which she put articles and ideas that appealed to her in magazines. When she was working, she was going to buy a house of her own and decorate it exactly the way she wanted to. Without being big-headed about it, she knew she had a talent for design. Her art teacher had advised her to go to art college, but Nora was not in favour of it. Cassie’s next choice was to study architecture and she intended putting her name down for a place in the College of Technology, Bolton Street in Dublin. Of course she’d have to get the grades in her exams. She had done very well in her Intermediate Certificate, and so far she wasn’t doing too badly with her studies. Fortunately, she enjoyed her subjects, apart from science, so it wasn’t an awful chore to do a bit of swotting now and again.

  Honestly, you’d think Nora would even appreciate that, she reflected, as she started picking up Barbara’s clothes, which lay strewn at the foot of her bed. Barbara and Martin always had to be reprimanded for not studying hard enough. The more Cassie reflected on her current situation, the more aggrieved she felt and the more put-upon she became in her own eyes. In a thoroughly bad humour, she lifted all Barbara’s clothes off the floor and flung them onto her divan. What a mess Barbara’s clothes got into! A key fell out of a jeans pocket. Cassie’s eyes widened. That looked like her padlock key. She flew over to her wardrobe and fitted the key in her lock. It fitted! But how odd. Just five minutes ago hadn’t she opened the lock with the key she kept on an elastic band around her wrist? The little bitch! She’d got a copy made somehow. Just wait! Cassie fumed. Just wait until that one got home.