by Sandy Taylor
‘From before we grew up, from when we were children. Don’t you remember, Bridie? Don’t you remember when I called her Miss Baggy Knickers?’
Bridie nodded her head. ‘Oh dear! Well, it looks like you’ve got yourself an enemy there.’
I couldn’t get Miss Caroline out of my mind for the rest of the day. I’d hoped she wouldn’t recognise me but she had, of course she had, and now like Bridie said, I’d made an enemy and I knew I must do my best to stay out of her way as much as I could.
Once I’d finished work, I ran up to my room. Annie came in just as I was changing out of my uniform.
‘You’re awful lucky, Cissy,’ she said, sitting down on the bed. ‘I wish I had a home to go to.’
I sat down beside her. ‘Maybe one day you’ll have a home of your own, Annie.’
‘And what chance do I have of that ever happening?’
‘We never know what’s going to happen in the future, none of us do. I bet you never thought you’d ever leave the workhouse and get this fine job, did you?’
‘You’re right, I didn’t and I’m grateful but sometimes I long for a place to call my own. A little cottage with my own front door and my own hearth to sit beside. I dream of it all the time.’
‘I’ll light a candle for you tonight when I go to Mass and I’ll ask the Blessed Virgin to look down kindly on you and ask her son to grant your wish.’
‘Thanks, Cissy. You’re a good friend, my best friend.’
I put my arms around her and kissed her cheek. ‘You never know, Annie, tomorrow night at the party some young man might sweep you off your feet and carry you away to your own little cottage.’
‘And pigs might fly,’ she said, grinning.
‘So they might. It’s Christmas and at Christmas anything can happen. Anyway, I’ll be back first thing in the morning.’
It was pitch-black as I walked down the drive towards Colm.
‘Let’s get you home,’ he said, taking my hand and helping me up beside him.
‘Thanks for getting me,’ I said.
‘You’re more than welcome. Your mammy and granddaddy are only longing to see you. It’s been weeks since you were home.’
‘You wouldn’t believe how much work there is to do, Colm. Christmas is a very grand affair at the Hall and you should see all the food. There’s tons of it and it’s not like the food we eat, even the potatoes are different. They get them shipped over from England and you’ll never believe this, but they peel the skins off them! They do, they peel the skins!’
‘Well, they are very welcome to their English potatoes, Cissy, for I’ve never eaten a finer potato than the ones we grow here.’
‘Oh, I wasn’t meaning theirs are better, just different.’
Colm didn’t speak all the way home and I was feeling cross. I’d only mentioned the English potatoes, for God’s sake! You’d think I’d said something awful about the Pope, not a sack of potatoes.
‘Why are you so cross, Colm Doyle?’ I said.
‘Who says I’m cross?’
‘I do, and I don’t know why. Are you so possessive of the Irish potato that you begrudge the Brettons eating a bag of English ones?’
We looked at each other and both burst out laughing at the foolishness of it all.
When we got to the cottage Mr Collins was coming out the door.
‘Merry Christmas, Cissy, and to you, Colm,’ he said, waving at us.
‘And a merry Christmas to you, Mr Collins,’ I said.
We opened the door and I was nearly knocked off my feet by Buddy, then Mammy threw her arms around me and Granddaddy was smiling. Suddenly I didn’t care about all the food at Bretton Hall or the trees or the lights because I was home among my family and it was the only place I wanted to be on this Christmas Eve. I took off my coat and hung it behind the door.
‘What was Mr Collins doing here?’ I said.
‘He came by to see Buddy,’ said Mammy.
Then there was a snort from the granddaddy: ‘He did in his eye,’ he said.
Chapter Twenty
I had always loved Midnight Mass. I loved everything about it: the candles, the carols, the smell of incense and Father Kelly in his gold and white Christmas vestments. I loved seeing the Baby Jesus in the manger and the Virgin Mary looking so tenderly down at him and Joseph standing beside her, but this year I just felt a great heaviness in my heart. I remembered another Christmas with Nora kneeling beside me, her little face so lovely in the glow of the candles and now she was gone, taken up to heaven when she was still just a young girl. I tried to make myself feel better, knowing she was with Jesus and the angels and that now she’d know that Mrs Foley was her mammy, but it didn’t help. I wanted her here with me, I needed her more than Jesus did.
The next morning, I got up early – I wanted to spend some time with the mammy before I went back to the Hall. It felt like the middle of the night when I came downstairs. Mammy was at the stove stirring the porridge and, to my disbelief, Granddaddy was piling peat onto the fire. The room felt grand and warm. Buddy ran to me and I bent down and ruffled his soft fur.
‘What are you doing up so early, Granddaddy?’
‘I thought I’d see you before you were off to the Hall and your mammy has a surprise for you.’
I looked across at Mammy, who was smiling at me. She reached into the cupboard and brought out a parcel, wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.
‘Happy Christmas, Cissy,’ she said, handing it to me.
I sat at the table and unwrapped the parcel. My eyes filled with tears as I stared down at the beautiful pale blue dress in front of me. I lifted it carefully out of the paper and held it up against me. ‘Oh, Mammy,’ I said, jumping up from the table and putting my arms around her. ‘Thank you, oh, thank you.’
‘I hope it fits, child, I had to take a bit of a guess. You know Mrs Quirk down at the laundry?’
I nodded.
‘Well, her daughter is a dressmaker and I got her to run it up for me. Now, away and try it on.’
I kissed her cheek and ran upstairs. The dress felt like silk as I slid it over my head, letting it fall in soft folds to just below my knees. It fitted like a glove.
Mammy and the granddaddy were waiting as I came into the kitchen.
Mammy nodded. ‘It’s as lovely as I hoped it would be. It brings out your eyes.’
‘Granddaddy?’ I said, spinning around in front of him.
‘You look grand,’ he said.
‘I have nothing for you, Mammy.’
‘It’s enough that you’re here, Cissy.’
Colm was soon at the door to take me up to the Hall. As we trotted through the town, he reached down and handed me a paper bag.
‘For me?’
‘Who else?’
I opened the bag and inside was a brooch. It was so dark that I couldn’t make out the colour but it sparkled and it felt smooth and cold in my hand.
‘It’s only glass,’ said Colm, ‘but one day, when I’m rich, I’ll get you a proper one.’
‘I wouldn’t want another, Colm,’ I said, reaching across to touch his hand. ‘I only want this one.’
‘That’s grand then. Happy Christmas, Cissy.’
‘Happy Christmas, Colm.’
There was so much activity in the kitchen that I don’t think anyone saw me arrive. I ran upstairs to the bedroom. Annie was trying to squash her unruly hair into her cap.
‘I wish I had hair like yours, Cissy,’ she said, ‘and not a bloody bush on top of my head!’
‘You have lovely hair, Annie. Sure, people would die for those curls.’
‘Thanks, but I think you’re just being kind because you’re my friend.’
‘Not at all, your hair is beautiful.’
Annie turned away from the mirror and put her arms around me. ‘Happy Christmas, Cissy.’
The kitchen smelt of spices and berries and winter greenery freshly cut from the garden to decorate the table. Mrs Hickey was yelling at everyone
and her face was shiny from the heat of the ovens; she kept mopping it on the sleeve of her shirt.
Everyone seemed to have a job to do. A couple of lads who’d been taken on to serve at table hurried past with trays of glasses that sparkled like diamonds in the dim corridor. Everything was exciting and different and I couldn’t wait to get caught up in it all.
Mrs Hickey spotted me and Annie in the doorway. ‘Don’t just stand there gawping like a couple of eejits! Annie, come here and get cracking on the veg and you, Cissy, help Bridie upstairs with the breakfast or am I expected to do everything myself?’
‘Yes, Mrs Hickey,’ said Annie. ‘I mean, no, Mrs Hickey. I mean, I’ll do it right away, Mrs Hickey.’
I grinned at Annie and ran up to the breakfast room, smoothing my apron as I went. Bridie was taking the lids off the breakfast trays. ‘Mrs Hickey sent me to help,’ I said.
Bridie smiled at me. ‘Thanks, Cissy. Did you enjoy seeing your folks last night?’
‘It was lovely but it was hard saying goodbye this morning.’
‘You’re going to be so busy this day you won’t have time to think about anything but serving the Brettons.’
‘I’m sure you’re right, it’s pretty mad down in the kitchen.’
‘Now, all you have to do is pour the tea and coffee, they’ll help themselves to the food – and tuck your hair into your cap.’
I pushed the stray bits of hair under my white cap and waited for the family to arrive.
‘They’ll be guests you won’t know, Cissy, strangers, but don’t let that worry you, just pour the tea and coffee and look pleasant.’
‘What if they speak to me?’
‘They’ll be too busy feeding their faces to be speaking to the likes of us.’
‘That’ll suit me fine.’
Bridie was right, it was as if the pair of us were invisible. They piled their plates with bacon and liver, kidneys and black pudding, eggs and soda bread as if they hadn’t eaten in a year. The smell of the food was making my mouth water. It seemed like hours ago that I’d eaten the thin porridge and I was feeling hungry.
I heard her before I saw her. She flounced into the room on the arm of a young boy, giggling and looking up at him, tossing her shiny, golden hair over her shoulder. She stopped dead when she saw me. I kept my eyes down, I didn’t want any trouble.
‘Tea or coffee, Miss Caroline?’ asked Bridie quickly.
I could feel Miss Caroline’s eyes burning into me. I could feel beads of sweat prickling under my armpits.
‘Orange juice. And she can carry it to the table.’
I knew she meant me.
‘I’m sure Cissy has better things to do than wait on us.’
I looked up and Master Peter was smiling at me.
‘Isn’t it her job to wait on us, Peter?’
The boy who’d come in with Miss Caroline was looking awkward. ‘I’ll take it to the table for you, Caroline,’ he said.
‘Good man,’ said Peter.
Caroline looked furious. She hated me, that was for sure. If I was going to keep my job, I would have to stay out of her way as much as I could.
‘Don’t worry, Cissy,’ whispered Bridie. ‘She’ll be back to school soon and anyway, it looks as if you have your own protector in Master Peter.’
I nodded in agreement. ‘He’s awful nice, isn’t he?’
‘It’s hard to believe they have the same parents. There’s no airs and graces about that boy, there never has been.’
I looked across the room and watched as Master Peter ate his food and talked to the people beside him. He had a lovely easy smile that drew people to him. I’d never tire of looking at that face. Just then he looked up and caught my eye. I could feel a rush of heat to my face as if I’d been caught doing something I shouldn’t. I lowered my head, what was I thinking? I had no right to be going red and shy and lowering my eyes like a proper lady. I was a servant for God’s sake and he was an Honourable, but then I remembered Colm saying, ‘You’re as good as anyone else, Cissy,’ and that made me stand a little taller.
I was glad when breakfast was over and I could go back downstairs, where I belonged.
The kitchen was a hub of activity. A couple of girls were garnishing trays of shiny pink salmon, whose dead eyes stared up to the ceiling, with very thinly sliced circles of cucumber, overlapping them slightly so it looked as if the salmon had cucumber scales. The girls were concentrating hard on their work; one had the tip of her tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth. Another girl was decorating an enormous trifle, carefully slicing pieces of red and green angelica into diamonds and arranging the shapes on top of the cream. A fourth was stirring the gravy. A woman from the village with great big arms was carving into a whole leg of cooked ham, slice after slice of pink meat falling onto the plate in front of her as she sawed at it with a knife as long as my leg. Great big pans full of root vegetables – potatoes, carrots, parsnips and swede – were bubbling on the hob. Steam filled the air, and a mixture of different smells, some sweet, some savoury; all of them delicious. A row of tureens was lined up on the table, lids off, insides gleaming, waiting for food to be put inside them, their lids put on, and then taken to the dining room, where they would stand on the hot plate on top of the sideboard. Girls were running up and downstairs, laying the table, putting out the best silver cutlery that had been polished to a fine shine and the finest glassware. Bottles of wine had been left outside to keep cool.
Mrs Hickey was sliding food into the oven, ladling hot steaming soup into silver tureens, yelling orders, screaming for the back door to be opened and screaming for it to be closed.
It was mad, it was hectic, it was noisy and crazy and busy, but it was fun. Even for those of us working, it was fun. We all pulled together. Everyone did their bit to make this Christmas Day the best it could be.
Once dinner was over and everything cleared away, we were all able to take a break. Mrs Hickey nodded off beside the fire on her old chair with her feet resting on a stool. She’d worked hard, she deserved a rest.
‘I’m going for a bit of a sleep,’ said Annie. ‘Are you coming up, Cissy?’
‘I think I’ll go for a walk.’
‘Out there? Jesus, it’s freezing!’
I smiled at her. ‘I think I’ll survive.’
I went into the boot room and took my coat down from behind the door, then I wrapped my shawl around my head and went outside. At first the cold air took my breath away but it was lovely after the heat of the house. I started walking, following the path down to the sea. Snow still sat on the trees, and every so often the wind moved the branches, sending a flurry of soft white powder around my shoulders. Everything was so white and shiny that my eyes were dazzled by the brightness of it. As I got closer, I could hear the waves gently lapping the beach, smell the seaweed and taste salt on my lips. I jumped down onto the wet sand and walked towards the shore. My boots sank into the wetness, leaving footprints behind me as I walked. I stood still and looked along the coast. The tall spire of the church rose above the town like a needle piercing the steel-grey sky and above the church I could just make out the hazy outline of the workhouse. How different my life was now from the world inside those thick stone walls. Now I was free to walk along this beach and watch the little waves trickling into the shore. I could run if I wanted to, I could do anything I had a mind to do. If only my dear friend Nora could be with me this day, then my happiness would be complete.
I thought about Mammy and the granddaddy and hoped that they were having a nice time. Mr Collins was coming to dinner and bringing a fine fat turkey with him. Part of me wished I was there with them in the little cottage in Paradise Alley, helping Mammy with the cooking and chatting to the granddaddy, maybe walking up the lane to wish Colm and his daddy a happy Christmas and giving Blue a carrot. I put my hand in my pocket and took out the brooch that Colm had given me. I held it up to the light: I could see now that it was ice blue, like the sea and the sky and the snow on the trees an
d the frost on the water. I knew that every time I looked at it, I would remember that Colm had given it to me on this Christmas Day. I pulled my shawl closer around my head and began to walk back to the Hall.
Chapter Twenty-One
The living room and dining room of the big house were separated by a partition wall that could be folded back to make one big room. This was where the party was to be held. The carpets had been rolled up in each room, most of the furniture removed, the fireplaces and window ledges decorated with boughs of holly and ivy. Mistletoe had been hung from the doorframes and beams, and swags of gold and white fabric caught with glass baubles hung around the walls, giving the party room the feel of an ocean liner, or something else, something really grand. The curtains were tied back, so that the windows could be opened later, if necessary.
I stood at the door to the room, gazing at it in admiration. The fires had been lit earlier, but allowed to die down so as not to make the room too hot for dancing. Small tables and chairs had been placed around the edges so people could have a sit down if they so wished. The grand piano was at the far end of the dining room, polished to a glossy shine and covered in candlesticks. I didn’t think I’d ever seen a room look so romantic.
I’d heard someone mention that the floor was special, sprung for dancing. I stepped forward. It didn’t feel any different to me but then I was no floor expert and no dancing expert either. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine how it might feel to dance in the arms of a handsome young man. Just as I was about to be carried away in this daydream, I heard voices from the Hall behind me and I scuttled back out and hid behind a thick velvet curtain, just in time. The first guests were arriving, coming through the front door, out of the dark winter night, bringing with them a rush of cold air. They gasped in amazement as they saw the tree standing in the hall beneath the stairwell and it did look beautiful with its streamers and candles and baubles. They said good evening to one another and to the staff and then they took off their coats and gave them to one of the hired boys, who took them upstairs to hang up in the spare bedrooms. More guests were arriving all the time.
