Dear Cathy ... Love, Mary

by Catherine Conlon

  D’you remember how worried I was (yes, I DO worry!) back in May and June and July about coming here? I was so sure I’d be a real let-down to everyone after Lena. Well, it’s not a bit like that. She asked Viv if she could come back next summer but Viv wants me to stay on. She smoked non-stop. Stayed out ’til 4 a.m., got up at twelve in the day, etc., etc., etc. I really had to laugh when Viv said she was afraid of the way I’d turn out. You never think of the family being worried, do you? I mean, all of the sympathies lie with the au-pair.

  Bruno said today that the people in the bakery next door were saying that I was better than Lena. But I think that’s because being of an older generation they don’t hold with people wearing shorts etc. during the summer. If I have to have a clamp fitted, I’m going to fit into a size twelve this summer!

  I really intend making up for all of the nights I spent inside watching telly, reading, knitting, sewing, etc., when the summer arrives. I’m going to have a fling (please, please!). They all have the impression I think that I’m an old granny of a one, but roll on the peak season and all the young people and they’ll find out. I believe that young people all over France claim relations here for the summer, and consequently end up pitching tents in their granny’s cousin’s sister-in-law’s back garden for two or three months. I believe that there are barbecues and everything here then. But that’s all six or seven months away yet!

  Who’s Annique? Well, she’s the teacher at École Maternelle, St Phil. She’s thirtyish and last week thought and was hoping she was pregnant but unfortunately it was a false alarm. She’s Anne’s mother and is thin and rather plain and can’t really put people at their ease. Just the same I like her a lot. She’s terrific with the kids.

  What’s this I hear about my ex-breadman being engaged? I thought he was waiting for me! And sure and all didn’t I get the ring in the barm brack last year!

  Will there be a Macra party this Christmas? Remember the one last year? I haven’t heard ‘A Winter’s Tale’ since that time. Sue made up a tape for me with piles of terrific songs but to my surprise and disappointment that wasn’t included. Have you got any contacts in Macra now, apart from John trying to do away with you (heart failure) by saluting you?

  Talking of dishy guys … Remember I mentioned Chantal and Yvan before? Well, due to the fact I’ve been keeping my ears cocked, I’ve come to the impression that he is divorced, looks after his son on Wednesday afternoons and is living with Chantal. Shucks! The only good-looking guy in sight. Well, not strictly true. Bruno is rather dishy too and very friendly, tall and blond, rather reminds you of a member of the Aryans (new pop group, or someone born between 23 March and 22 April!). And then, of course, there’s the hunk who works in the pub a mile up the road. I’ve seen him three times and can’t figure out if he’s a Tom type, nice to everybody, a Michael (drool) type, nice to the girls, or if he’s interested. But as I’m going to give up sweets for the New Year – not to mention the booze – I’ll hardly find out.

  Well, as it’s 6.20 p.m. I’m going to doll myself up a bit, i.e. put on me jumper with only two holes, and go down for supper. See you later, I hope!

  Sunday, 4 December

  Last night after dinner I was too lazy to finish writing. Consequently, having had a row with Chrystelle, at the end of which I declared she could bloody well learn English herself, I find myself with an extra hour or two.

  Vivianne is after me to give English lessons to adults. She’s already asked the mayoress, and there’d be no problem borrowing the school hall one or two nights a week. I’m not too eager myself, though. I can’t imagine myself standing up in front of a class of people, all older than me, especially with my bad French, and trying to teach them English. I think my face’d be the same colour as telephone boxes in England, permanently. I wouldn’t even know where to start. I’d rather have two or three extra people and give lessons privately.

  At the moment I’ve got two young pupils. Alain is terribly shy and it was only yesterday after eight weeks of lessons that he independently posed a question! And, what’s more, actually laughed. Don’t get the wrong idea that I’m scaring him – as if I’d do a thing like that! His mother always says that he says I’m ‘très gentille’. Unfortunately, as he’s a very good friend of the family, I don’t charge him anything! Any accountant’s tips on how ole Scrooge here could extract a few francs from him?!

  I may have mentioned that the postman wanted me to give Véronique, his daughter, grinds. She’s terribly nice – 13½ but you’d think sixteen/seventeen. She’s the image of Ber Cooney. The whole family are lovely – well, there are only four of them. Véronique, her parents (both fifty-ish) and an orphaned cousin. It’s rather complicated and I don’t like to ask questions. You should see him – I wish I could – his photos are gorgeous, especially when he wears his army uniform. He’s now living with his girlfriend and their child in Alsace or somewhere. I believe all the girls in Trégunc were after him and I’m not surprised.

  Imagine, four weeks from today’ll be Christmas Day! Yippee! I’m really happy to be coming home, even though it’s only for a week. I’ve no details as to dates and travel arrangements yet. We phoned up the airport and it’d cost £200 from Lorient via Paris and London to Cork – exactly two months’ wages! The boat’d work out at about £50, but from what we can work out from the timetable, it doesn’t operate for the months of Jan and Feb. So, please keep your fingers crossed for me. Wouldn’t it be awful if I couldn’t come because of a blinking timetable?

  Well, anyway, I know Christmas is only three weeks away, but I’ve worked out (with my computer brain!) that you’ll have time to write back. Please do so, if you can manage it, as I love getting your letters. But I suppose you’ll have exams coming up. Good luck in them. Keep your chin up in WRTC and make the best of all the gorgeous hunks down there!

  From your

  Ever-loving

  Ever-devoted

  Ever-amiable

  Ever-kind, generous, gentille etc. etc. etc.

  Me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  PS Hope that in all the redecorating your mother didn’t throw out me coffee-table. Haven’t had a decent cup of coffee since I came here (we drink from bowls or ‘egg-cups’). Say ‘hello’ to all your family for me, and tell ’em to batten the hatches for my arrival.

  Letter 12 / Christmas in Carrick!

  Carrick

  Sunday, 8 January 1984

  Dear Cathy,

  Have you survived the turkey and ham or are you like me, thanking my lucky stars that I only make a pig out of myself just once a year (well, almost just once a year)? I was really, really delighted to hear your voice gabbling down the phone. Kitty chicken, ya never sounded better.

  You should have been here the morning I phoned you (God, that sounds stupid, I know, I know). I was going to phone you from Paddy Landers but then Maw decided that we’d phone from the pay phone outside the Friary. Off we went and I got through to yer wan in the exchange. She said I couldn’t phone from there as there was money stuck in the slot but she told me how much it would cost. So we got the money ready and off we went to O’Donnell’s (near the Old Bridge). The two of us squashed into the booth (which we shared with a stepladder!). Then Maw wanted to be on the side where the slot is to put in the money so we had to do a little shuffle (or hucklebuck!). When yer wan finally got the number and asked us to put in the money some of it fell on the floor and Maw got a cramp while bending down to pick it up. Then the telephone started choking and spitting out the money, which we promptly replaced, but yer wan wouldn’t put me through ’cos she said I hadn’t put the money in. Maw pushed open the door and hollered for Mich
ael O’Donnell, who came and assured yer wan that we had paid. Honestly, the things I do for you!

  To crown it all, when we got home we were locked out (’cos Maw lost the key) and after fifteen minutes (slight exaggeration, perhaps) of yelling and roaring like lunatics while bashing on the door knocker we finally persuaded Da, who was resurrected from his hibernation, to throw us down his key. I dread to think what the new neighbours think of us! They’re a young couple with two kids; he is Tony Dunne’s stepbrother. And believe it or not I haven’t seen them properly yet (as peeking thru the curtains doesn’t count), let alone spoken to ’em.

  I really enjoyed Christmas but I can’t tell you how disappointed I was that you didn’t come.* I went to the Macra party in Ballyneale on the Friday before Christmas Eve. There was a car treasure hunt beforehand. Sue came a-calling and we walked to the Guards Barracks where we were joined by Anne Cummins and Dolly. Ann Delaney gave us a lift on the treasure hunt. Gerard, Pat and John Foley, Godfrey Green and Co were in another car and we had great gas dodging each other on the road out. At one stage we parked the car and bent down low inside. When they passed they thought we were gone into the field (it was pitch dark, remember). So they doubled back. Such laughing. Then they parked in front of one of the clues and wouldn’t budge. We passed them out and slowed down to 5 m.p.h. so they couldn’t pass.

  The party itself, like all Macra dos, took ages to get off the ground. Just picture it – us girls sitting around by the wall while all the fellas stood in the middle discussing scour, hoose and Ranezol! (Honest!) I danced nearly all the dances with Gerard. It was awkward because I couldn’t dance with anyone else then, because he kept asking me. To tell you the truth, I’ve gone right off him. Oh, he’s okay and very friendly but somehow I think he tries too hard or something. I can’t place my finger on it but he seems different. What he said sort of sounded false or something. Maybe he used too many clichés, I dunno …

  I enjoyed Sue’s party more. I think it’s because all the lads* were there. Eleanor looked great. Did you know she has to wear a veil?† Yeah, and she’s leaving her hair grow so that she can tie it up. She was in great spirits. Anne and Mary Maher were there too. Mary is teacher-training. I had a great chat with Catherine. I think she’s regretting not doing science ’cos I said, ‘Do you feel there’s something missing with your accountancy course?’ And she said, ‘Yeah! Physics, chemistry and biology.’ Ber was in great glee. Kathleen looked absolutely stunning but was really shy. At one stage Michael (heartthrob) was trying hard to impress (you know the sort of thing!) but she was real shy and didn’t answer him so he just gave up. I can see what you mean – he really is something! The only damper was that Tom wasn’t there. Oh, I nearly forgot: K— got off with R— at the Macra party and was with her at Sue’s too. He drove her home – with me and Eleanor in the back! Did you ever wish you could disappear? He turned off the lights when he got to her place and got out with her around the back of the car, leaving Eleanor and me twiddling our thumbs! Got home at 2.15 a.m. (an improvement on the Macra party, which was twenty to four!).

  I met Sue’s digs mate, Caroline, at the party. She’s really, really nice (just like us – modest as well!). Actually when she was dancing her resemblance to you was uncanny. Many people remarked on it.

  You should have seen us all gathered in Sue’s sitting room around the phone – six girls and Michael. He told Sue’s father to close the door and give him privacy. He looked lovely sitting on the floor talking to you!

  U— lost her baby. It was really sad. She went into labour on Sunday night and they left her until Tuesday night before doing a Caesarean section. The child died only an hour before the section was done. So really it was pure neglect. U— is heart-broken. Talking about child fatalities, there have been a lot of child deaths in Carrick in the past two months. And every single birth I’ve heard of in the past few months has been a Caesarean section. Is it that we’re all getting weak, or what?

  I meant to ask you, did you bring out the tape-recorder with you and did Viv teach you any crafts and are there more young people in Trégunc and did you unearth why the staff have only been there six months and …?

  Some more gossip – did you know that Cheryl is going to Canada as an au-pair for two years? I met her sister yesterday and she told me. That’s all the details I have for now, though. Did you know that Finola is now going out with Donogh (across the road from moi)? Apparently it all arose from the pantomime (which they were both in)! Guess who’s joining the panto next year?!

  I bet you’re disappointed that Denny isn’t. So am I. Guess it’s the ould maternal instinct (huh).

  Next time you come home (that’s if you ever do come home), there’ll be a new restaurant. I think it’s Chinese but I’m not sure so you’d better get crackin’ with your chopsticks!!

  I went to the sales yesterday. Susan Kelly is working in Tom Whelan’s shoe shop now. I bought a pair of Puma trainers (£11.95).

  You know the way my aunt Joan smokes like a trooper. Well, she went to this hypnotist guy in Dungarvan and, guess what, she gave up the weed. I couldn’t believe it ’cos she couldn’t stay off them for an hour. She’s lasted three weeks but I met her yesterday and she says she’s going back on them again. One thing, though – she’s gone real absent-minded and giggly. She almost didn’t see me yesterday (and me straight in front of her) and that’s definitely NOT like Joan who is usually razor sharp. I wonder if it’s anything to do with the hypnosis. Kind of scary really, isn’t it?

  Maw, Paw and Matty are fine. One day Maw asked me if I’d have tea. I said I’d go get a Coke instead. I poured it out, turned my back and when I turned around again she’d poured milk into my Coke. Honest!

  We won a Christmas cake in Farrells’ draw. We also went for a walk up Pill Road on St Stephen’s Day. You wouldn’t recognise it. You can see the bungalow from the road now (the one beside the school) and the wall in front of the school is continued all the way down to the terraced houses. It makes the road feel really long.

  Guess what? I failed my first exam ever before Christmas. It was Statistics. It was really funny. I wasn’t too disappointed as Niamh got exactly the same mark (phew)! We got 43 (50 is a pass). Harry got 94 and Marita* got 10 so …

  I’ve watched a lot of TV over the holliers. I’m sorry that I can’t tell you what’s happening in Dynasty. If you want to know about Dallas or Glenroe I’d be more than happy to fill you in!

  I’m going back to college tomorrow. I’m really looking forward to it. I love the atmosphere down there. There’s a kind of solidarity you feel being with others your own age. So, Kitty girl, I’d better go now or I’ll run out of paper, words, gossip and immaculate writing! Hope you like the calendar. I’ve sent a photo taken last Christmas too in Anne-Marie’s.

  Byeeeeee.

  Lots of love.

  Write soon.

  Mary

  Letter 13 / Champagne and chopsticks!

  Trégunc

  Thursday, 19 January 1984

  Dear Mary,

  Thanks a million for your letter, which was impatiently received after all these long weeks of waiting. As both Chantal and Yvan have Thursday off, I sometimes give a hand in the restaurant, emptying the dishwasher and the like. So there I was up to me elbows in soup and rice and pork and pâté and apple tart and pineapple and kirsch, and I’ll leave the other gory details to yourself, when the letter arrived. Now, of course, being the conscientious worker I am I didn’t like to take time off to read it, so it was about an hour later I finally got to open the envelope! I’m sure you can imagine the state I was in by that stage.

  So anyway,
at about two o’clock, I took myself up to the bedroom, put on Best Moves by Chris de Burgh (which finally arrived from home!), stretched out on the bed, with Mimique on my knees, and spent a very pleasant half an hour exploring the glories from the West! I just ADORE the calendar, photo is lovely too, but best of all is the letter! I love getting the type of letter you write, with all the little bits of gossip and snippets of useless, irrelevant info. When they write to me from Glen, they tell me nothing at all, which is most annoying!

  Now, where do I start? As I’ve already gone into detail about my holiday in London to Sue and Catherine, I don’t think I’ll start there. Well, at any rate, I won’t blab on about the shopping, Oxford St, Hammersmith, cooking, washing up, etc. But, in a way I was very disappointed; not with the holiday itself or anything. After being stuck out here miles from family and friends for so long, I was really looking forward to seeing Celia again and being able to have some nice long chats, y’know, girl to girl. But, boy, was I doomed to failure! I’m not sure how to explain. But she didn’t seem in the least bit interested. During the ten days I was there, she never asked ONE single question. I mean, it’s been seven months since we met, and nothing! Just as I was beginning to think we were getting closer. But any time we were alone she just watched television. She didn’t seem to want to talk at all.

  When I mentioned anything about France she acted bored, so after the first few days I gave up. Even when I mentioned things that happened during the summer, she didn’t want to know. As for info about her college, ever try getting blood out of a turnip? I think if I’d stayed there much longer, we’d have ended up having a row! Even Daddy didn’t put himself out in that field. Even though I’m still his favourite (what modesty!) I kinda got the impression he wasn’t particularly interested. Funnily enough it was Maura* who asked the most. Yes, we did meet! As a matter of fact, Celia and I had her up to dinner one night. Naturally with us cooking, the meal wasn’t fantastic. But there weren’t any awkward silences! We weren’t exactly chummy with each other, merely polite. We went out together on New Year’s Eve. Michael, her second son, came too. It’s been eight or nine years since I’ve seen him. Boy, what a change! He ALWAYS wears black, has dark hair, dark eyes, is a bit taller than me, and only his lack of years and money prevents him from being the perfect Mills & Boon hero! Both of these faults, however, can be rectified! By the way, he’s a government-employed artist!