The Grace Girls

by Geraldine O'Neill

  ‘Give it a rest, Mona,’ Fintan said from the front seat, ‘you’ve had your say now.’

  Heather was squashed between her hefty aunt and her mother in the back seat, with her hand pressed firmly against her mouth. Never had she seen Mona in such an agitated, angry mood – and she dreaded where it was going to finish. There were often disagreements and atmospheres between her mother and aunt, but they had never been as vicious as this one-sided tirade.

  Mona made a loud indignant-sounding grunt and then turned sideways in her seat towards Sophie, although she could only see her silhouette outlined in the dark of the car. ‘And ye needn’t sit there in silence. I know fine well that none of you agree with me. You’re obviously all prepared to be walked over – to let yer own standards and the Catholic Church’s standards down as well. Where would we all be if them that defected were welcomed back with open arms? She knew the rules and she deliberately broke them – so now she can pay the price that we would all have to pay.’

  ‘Maybe some of us don’t feel as strong as you do, Mona,’ Pat said sharply. ‘Maybe some of us couldn’t give a damn what other people do.’

  Heather’s stomach churned at the thought of this turning into a full-scale row between husband and wife, and was grateful when the men started a conversation of their own about football.

  Mona sucked in her breath, then started off again in a lower tone directed at the females. ‘Men and lads not speakin’ out I can half understand,’ she said in a derisory manner, ‘but us women need to stick together. An’ it’s not that I’m pickin’ on Claire Grace here – there’s plenty of others up to the same carry-on these days. Tommy’s wife, Janey, was sayin’ that only the other day, about a niece in her own family that’s gettin’ married outside the Catholic Church, and all the rows it’s caused.’ She tutted loudly now. ‘The Church depends on us mothers to hold the family’s standards together. And there’s no good in being all mealy-mouthed and weak when one of them decides to step outside the fold. We need to stand firm or we’ll have them all doing it.’

  Sophie finally spoke up now, unable to take much more. ‘I don’t think any of us could be described as mealy-mouthed,’ she said, leaning forward and looking towards her sister-in-law. ‘And there’s plenty of stories in the Bible where you’re told you should hold out the hand of friendship to people of all creeds and colour. Look at the Good Samaritan and Mary Magdalene.’

  ‘Well, you’re surely gettin’ all religious, Sophie Grace, quotin’ the blidey Bible!’ Mona said incredulously. ‘And the Good Samaritan and Mary Magdalene . . .’ She paused for breath. ‘Father Finlay says it’s not for us to be reading and translatin’ the Bible – that’s what the priests are there to do, to explain all that in the Gospel on a Sunday. Readin’ the Bible – sure that’s what the oul’ Protestants do, wi’ their Bible-reading classes and the like.’ She gave a sarcastic little laugh. ‘It’s a bad day when ye can’t be proud of your own religion and heritage. When ye think of all the poor souls that starved to death durin’ the famine in Ireland for their faith, and there’s folks nowadays wouldn’t have the guts to even admit they were Catholics if it was any way awkward for them.’

  There was a silence, as everyone looked out of the car windows into the white frosty night and hoped Mona had exhausted her grievances and would let the subject drop.

  ‘Lily looked better tonight,’ Heather said, as the car slowed down and turned into the main street in Rowanhill. ‘She’s moving better and she’s not coughing as much as she was before. D’you think there’s a chance she will get out of hospital for Christmas?’

  ‘I spoke to the ward sister tonight,’ Mona said, her voice flat and weary. ‘She said there’s a possibility that we might be able to bring her home on Christmas Eve for the night – to be in her own house for Santie coming. They’re not promisin’ anything as they said they’ll need to see how her breathing is between now and then.’

  ‘I’ll say a wee novena that she does get out,’ Sophie said.

  ‘Thanks,’ Mona said quietly, with an audible catch in her voice. ‘After what she’s gone through, the wee soul could do with all our prayers.’

  Chapter 26

  In the last few days leading up to Christmas, there was more than the usual activity going on in the Grace households. Lily, it had been confirmed, was now deemed well enough to have both Christmas Eve and Christmas night at home. This was on the strict understanding that with any signs of breathing difficulties or the slightest deterioration in her condition, she would have to be returned to hospital immediately.

  On the Thursday afternoon, Sophie was ensconced in her little sewing-room with a stack of dresses, skirts and trousers that all needed to be hemmed or taken in or let out for the Christmas festivities. On a small table behind her was another pile of curtains and other functional items that would have to wait until the holidays were over.

  A rap came on the back door and she heard Fintan’s footsteps as he went to answer it. Hearing Pat and Mona’s voices, Sophie stopped the machine, glad of an excuse to have a break, and came down to hear the latest news on Lily. As she walked along the hallway, she was relieved to hear Mona laughing and chatting, as she had dreaded a cold war between them all over Christmas.

  ‘Wait until you hear this,’ Mona said, as Sophie came into the kitchen, ‘the big fella here is heading into Wishaw to get us a television set!’ She was still in her dark working jacket and full white apron, obviously having just come from the Chapel house.

  ‘A television?’ Sophie repeated in a shocked tone, looking from Mona to Pat. ‘When did you decide this?’

  ‘Yesterday,’ Pat announced.

  ‘A television – imagine!’

  ‘I’m on the early shift this week,’ Pat explained, ‘and I’ve been takin’ a run around all the electrical shops after work. I’ve got a good deal wi’ one in Wishaw, and they said I could collect it this afternoon.’ He nodded at his brother. ‘I was just wonderin’ if you wanted to take a run in with me to pick it up.’

  ‘Grand, I’ve nothin’ much else to do this afternoon,’ Fintan told his brother. ‘I’ve already been up to the school to check the pipes and the boiler are OK.’ He nodded his head. ‘It’ll be interesting to see how they rig the television up, and see how the aerial works and all that kind of thing.’ He glanced out of the window to see if it was likely to rain. It didn’t look too bad; the sky was grey but it looked as though it would hold. ‘I’ll just get my overcoat.’ He went out to the hall to the coat-rack.

  ‘The television is for Lily, really,’ Mona said now, her face serious. ‘We wouldn’t bother for ourselves. It was her that made us make up our minds.’ She bit her lip, for a moment looking as if she might burst into tears. ‘We’d planned on gettin’ her a new two-wheeler bike. I had it ordered up at the Co-op and everything . . . but she’s not going to be able for that for a long while. So there’s no point in havin’ it rusting out in the shed, and us havin’ to look at it every time we go to get coal.’

  Pat cut in now. ‘She’s not going to be fit to do much this Christmas except lie on the couch, so the lads suggested that we all chip in and get a TV for her. Seemingly, they have kids’ programmes and everything on it, and then in the dark evenings the whole family would get a bit of pleasure out of it.’

  ‘It’s a great idea,’ Sophie said, going over to the sink to top up the lukewarm kettle. ‘We’re always saying that we’ll see into getting one ourselves, but as usual we’ve never got organised.’

  ‘Oh, the radiogram will do us just fine for a while,’ Fintan said, ‘and anyway, we won’t need one now that the rich neighbours will have one. We can go round and look at theirs.’

  Everyone laughed, knowing that Fintan was only half-joking. There were very few people in Rowanhill with televisions, and anybody that did usually got a crowd in to look at it over the weekend or if there was a big football match on.

  ‘Just as long as you bring a few shillings for the box,’ Pat said.
‘We said we’d try one of those slot tellies that you put your money in.’

  ‘Is that right?’ Sophie asked. She was hugely interested in getting a television herself and had nearly succeeded on several occasions, aided and abetted by the girls. Fintan was the fly in the ointment. ‘And how exactly does it work?’

  ‘They have the money box attached at the back of the television, so that it can’t be seen . . . to give you a bit of privacy in case there’s anybody around that you wouldn’t like to know your business,’ Pat explained. ‘Then, seemingly, you put a shilling in the box and you can watch it for two hours. The idea with the box is to always keep a few bob handy so that you’re ahead of yourselves.’

  ‘Well, we’ll have to see about where we’ll keep the money,’ Mona mused, ‘for it won’t last long in a dish where those lads are around. That Patrick and Declan are forever borrowin’ money out of the two shillings I keep for the electric box, and they never pay it back.’

  ‘Well, they’ve said they’ll all take turns at putting their shillings in,’ Pat said, in a no-nonsense tone. ‘And if they don’t keep it up, we’ll get a payment book and they can all chip in every Friday for it.’

  Mona waved her hand dismissively. ‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. We’ll get the telly and Lily home for Christmas, and we’ll worry about paying for it in the New Year.’

  The two brothers headed away on their business into Wishaw, and Mona took her coat off and settled down at the kitchen table for a cup of tea. Sophie moved about in her slow way, pouring water into the teapot then searching around in the cupboard for a packet of Cadbury’s chocolate fingers that she’d hidden from Kirsty the other day. Every time visitors came there wasn’t a single decent chocolate biscuit in the house. They were eaten in jig-time, leaving the plain digestives or custard-creams. Heather wasn’t so bad at the minute, with her trying to cut down on sweet things, but when Kirsty was in the mood, she could eat a packet on her own.

  Sophie tutted to herself, half-listening to her sister-in-law while she opened all the cupboards that she might have hidden the biscuits in.

  ‘I meant to ask you,’ Mona said, ‘did your goose arrive this mornin’?’ All the Grace families received a decapitated goose as a Christmas present from Pat and Fintan’s brother, Joe, who was still home in Ireland on the small family farm.

  Sophie nodded, still opening cupboard doors. ‘Fintan brought it in. I’m glad he was here for it’s a ton weight.’

  ‘Thank God now that they came in plenty of time,’ Mona went on. ‘Ours came in the post van around eleven o’clock. By the time we got it in and soaking in cold water, the van had gone out of the street and I’d missed seein’ whether he’d stopped at your house.’ She looked around the kitchen now. ‘Where have you put it?’

  ‘Out in the shed,’ Sophie told her, ‘in cold water. I spent a good hour plucking it this morning, and then I gave up and left it to Fintan to finish off. It’s the most horrible job, that and gutting it. The smell of it would put you off.’ She laughed. ‘The girls run a mile when they see it with the feathers on and the blood all around the neck. If they look at it too much, it’ll put them off and then they won’t have it for their Christmas dinner. That’s why it’s out in the shed until it’s ready for the oven.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t mind it a bit,’ Mona laughed. ‘I get the lads to take turns on the feathers and then I give it a good clean out in salty water. It always reminds me of back home in Galway when we were children. My granny kept geese and ducks and everything.’

  ‘I ordered a large-sized chicken at the butcher’s just in case the goose didn’t arrive,’ Sophie said, now on her tiptoes looking in the cupboard she kept the baking trays in, ‘so I asked Fintan to take a walk up to the shop and let the butcher know that I’ll leave the chicken until the New Year.’

  ‘We’re lucky getting the geese,’ Mona stated. ‘Chicken is what most of them have around here for their Christmas dinner. A goose in a luxury.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Sophie agreed. ‘We should all be grateful, even if it is hard work.’

  ‘It’s a mild enough day for December,’ Mona said, nodding towards the window. ‘Thank God, I would hate it to be awful cold for Lily comin’ home. We’ll have to be fierce careful about keeping the house warm enough for her. We’ve brought her bed into our bedroom because it has the biggest fireplace and so we can keep a close eye on her.’

  ‘Oh, she’ll be fine,’ Sophie said, her head half in the cupboard that held the pots and pans. ‘She’s come on great every time I’ve seen her, and she’s moving her arms and legs and breathing a lot better.’ She suddenly spotted the blue wrapping and emerged triumphantly with the chocolate fingers.

  Tears suddenly shot into Mona’s eyes. ‘It’s taking an awful long time . . . When I think of her just weeks ago, running around and dancing all the time, and then I look at her now, still hardly able to move.’ A tear trickled down her face. ‘God knows if she’ll ever be able to walk again . . . or whether she’ll be left crippled. That little McKay fellow up the road – he’s left in a wheelchair.’ Her head dropped into her hands. ‘Oh, God, Sophie,’ she moaned, ‘I lie awake every night thinkin’ of her, and Pat’s often awake too. What did we ever do to deserve this?’

  Sophie came over to sit by her and put her arms around her sister-in-law. ‘You did nothing!’ she whispered. ‘It’s a germ that could have attacked anybody . . . it has attacked loads of people, grown-ups and children.’ She rocked very slightly, trying to comfort Mona.

  ‘It’s the hardest thing we’ve ever had to endure,’ Mona said, her voice thin and cracking. ‘And it had to be the smallest and the weakest.’ She gripped Sophie’s hands with all her might.

  ‘Lily will be fine,’ Sophie said, tears now tripping down her own cheeks. ‘Lily will be fine.’

  Mona finished her cup of tea, and then leaned across to pick one more biscuit. ‘You’d better take them out of my sight,’ she said to Sophie, ‘or I’ll end up eating the whole packet.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s no wonder you’re as thin as a rake, you only pick at the odd one.’

  ‘Chocolate doesn’t bother me,’ Sophie replied. ‘I can take it or leave it most of the time. It’s only at the bad time of the month that I take a notion for it.’

  ‘Don’t talk about that,’ Mona said, rolling her eyes. ‘Mine are all over the place. They’re here early one month then gone for two. I don’t know where I’m up to, and I’m terrified to let Pat near me. Before I could work out the safe time of the month, but now I haven’t a clue.’ She gave a little laugh now. ‘I’m tryin’ to outsit Pat every night, so that he’s asleep when I go up. I tell him I’m ironing or listening to the radio but some nights he stays up late himself, and it means that I’m not gettin’ to bed before twelve.’

  ‘What about going up earlier, and trying to get a good night’s sleep?’

  ‘Tried it,’ Mona said, lifting her eyes to the ceiling, ‘but he only follows me up ten minutes later.’

  ‘Has he not guessed that there’s something wrong?’ Sophie asked, surprised and slightly embarrassed that Mona was speaking so personally. Sex was not a common subject for discussion amongst the circle of women they moved in.

  ‘Oh, I’m sure he has,’ Mona sighed, ‘but he’ll just have to keep guessing. I don’t want to start explaining all of that to him, and knowing Pat, he might blame everything on it and say it’s me gettin’ older . . . that I’m on the change of life.’ She took a small bite of her chocolate finger. ‘I’ve just said I’m not in the mood for you-know-what, with all the worry about Lily and Christ­mas and everythin’.’

  ‘Are the lads all finishing work tomorrow for Christmas?’ Sophie enquired now.

  Mona nodded, then she swallowed the remainder of the biscuit. ‘Michael and Sean have the half-day, and Declan and Patrick are off school and college already. What about Heather and Kirsty?’

  Sophie had to think for a moment. ‘Heather’s finishing early t
omorrow,’ she said, ‘and then the crowd in the office are all going out to a pub for a Christmas meal. They said it would be easier havin’ it in the afternoon for the ones that have a distance to travel home.’

  ‘That’s sensible,’ Mona said, ‘because you can’t trust those trains, especially late at night.’ Her brow deepened. ‘And you never know who could be lurking about on them when they’re half-empty. A good-looking young girl on her own in a carriage – anythin’ could happen to her.’

  ‘Don’t say that, you’ll only get me worried,’ Sophie said, clearing up the cups and plates. She turned the hot tap on to fill the basin and then squirted some Fairy Liquid in and swished it around with her hand. Mona was an expert at putting her finger on the sore point, she thought ruefully. And when things did go wrong, she wasn’t slow to point out that she’d noted all the drawbacks in advance. She kept her back to her sister-in-law, rattling about with the cups and saucers in the comfortingly hot water.

  ‘Well, she was hell-bent on going to work in Glasgow, and that’s what these big cities are all about,’ Mona said with a sigh. ‘Oh, Heather Grace is just like her Uncle Pat: once she makes up her mind, there’s no movin’ her.’ A smile suddenly spread across her face. ‘And how’s poor Kirsty? She must be exhausted – on her feet all day in that chemist’s and then out two and three nights in the week for rehearsals.’

  ‘Oh, she’s none too pleased at the minute,’ Sophie said, grateful that they’d moved on to the safer subject of Mona’s favourite niece. She often wondered if Mona made the difference between the girls deliberately, or if it was something she wasn’t aware of. ‘She’s working right through until the half-day on Christmas Eve.’

  ‘Is she?’ Mona said, her eyes wide with surprise. She clucked her tongue in disapproval. ‘I suppose oul’ Simpson is hopin’ to sell a few more soap an’ bath-cube sets at the last minute.’