A Long Way from Heaven

by A Long Way from Heaven (retail) (epub)

  Thomasin shook her head wearily. ‘No matter how many times I tell yer it’s like talkin’ to a stuffed donkey.’ She turned her attention back to Erin. ‘Your talk of dinner parties brings me to our bit o’ news. Well, not so much dinner parties as housewarming…’

  ‘Oh, you’re having it at last!’ squealed Erin, springing to her feet.

  Thomasin laughed with her husband. ‘Aye, we’ve finally got round to it. We’ve set it for next Saturday.’

  Erin’s face crumpled and she sat down deflatedly. ‘Oh, but I’ll miss it. My afternoon off is on the Sunday.’

  ‘Eh, I’m sorry, lass, but it’s all arranged now, we can hardly tell t’guests we’ve changed our minds, can we, Dad?’ said Thomasin, then her face relaxed into a motherly smile and she leaned forward to chuck Erin under the chin. ‘Yer daft ’aporth. I’m havin’ yer on a bit o’ string. Yer don’t think we’d have a party without you, do yer?’

  Erin laughed in relief and blinked away the tears that had been stinging her eyes. ‘Oh, you are a one, Mam.’ She sprang up excitedly and caught up her basket. ‘Ooh, I must go an’ tell Caroline me news. By, I’m that lookin’ forward to it.’

  ‘To be hoped your brothers have altered their faces by then,’ commented Thomasin. ‘They’ll scare all the guests away.’ She poked at Sonny with her toe and he huffily shifted his position. ‘Come on, maungy, crack yer face.’

  ‘I think Erin’s enthusiasm’ll make up for any miserable mugs,’ observed Patrick as his daughter kissed him and prepared to leave. ‘Ye’d think we were having a banquet the way she’s performing.’

  Erin squeezed his hand then dashed to the door. ‘Oh, ye don’t know how much I’m looking forward to it,’ she cried happily. ‘I can’t wait for Sunday!’

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Sunday dawned uninspiringly through a thick blanket of grey cloud, and it was not until mid-morning that a valiant sun fought free of its prison to remind the inhabitants of the big house that it was summer.

  But Erin was too busy and far too excited about the party ever to notice the weather. She sailed through the morning chores at twice the speed, as if working faster would make the time go quicker, too.

  As there would be no lesson today, which meant that Erin would not see her friend, she decided to spend her short morning break chatting to Caroline and at eleven o’clock placed two cups of tea on a tray and slipped up to the other girl’s room.

  Caroline had just returned from chapel and was in the act of replacing her prayer book and gloves in the drawer when Erin marched in.

  ‘Oh, Erin, you are a darling, I’m absolutely parched.’ She snatched one of the cups and sank gratefully into a chair, kicking off her shoes and propping white-stockinged feet on the dressing table. ‘Chapel was infinitely dreary, as usual. I thought it would never end. How lucky you are not to have to go.’

  Erin, clutching her own cup, pushed away a hairbrush and comb then perched on the edge of the dressing table. ‘Ye’ve got a hole in your stocking,’ she observed.

  ‘Have I, where?’ Caroline twisted her foot around. ‘Oh, yes, so I have. Oh, well, I dare say you will not mind darning it for me this afternoon.’

  ‘Not this afternoon, I’ll not,’ replied Erin. ‘’Tis my free period. I’m goin’ to our housewarming party.’

  Caroline wriggled her toes. ‘Oh, yes, I remember now. That should be fun, but no more than you deserve. You work much too hard, Erin.’ She handed over her empty cup. ‘Put that on the tray, would you?’

  ‘Shall I go down for another?’

  Caroline wrinkled her nose. ‘No, stay and tell me about the party. What will you be having to eat? Mama says that at her next dinner party I am to be present, just think of that! I am to be treated like a grown up, and I shall have wine to drink.’

  ‘Well, I don’t suppose there’ll be anything of that sort at our party,’ said Erin. ‘But nevertheless it should be a grand do. There’s all our old friends coming.’

  ‘What are you to wear?’ asked Caroline.

  ‘I thought perhaps I’d wear the brown dress which you kindly gave me,’ said Erin.

  ‘Oh, but you cannot possibly wear that drab old thing, it’s positively ancient!’ cried Caroline. ‘And besides, you need something pretty and bright for a party.’

  ‘Well, maybe I could wear one o’ the others ye gimme,’ replied Erin slowly, and when Caroline told her that they were all far too shabby for a party, said, ‘They’ll have to do ’cause I’ve nothing else.’

  ‘Nothing else?’ answered Caroline disbelievingly. ‘Oh, come – you are not going to tell me you have only the old things I gave you.’

  ‘We can’t all be rich like you,’ snapped Erin springing from her perch and grabbing the tray.

  ‘Oh, don’t be such a ninny, Erin.’ Caroline jumped up and caught hold of Erin’s arm. ‘I did not mean to be insulting. I was genuinely surprised. Here!’ She ran to the wardrobe and flung open the door. ‘You may choose any one of these.’

  Erin stood motionless with the tray, still a little angry. ‘Don’t talk soft, I can’t take one o’ those. The mistress’d go loony if she saw me in one o’ your dresses.’

  ‘I don’t mean to keep,’ said Caroline. ‘Just to borrow. I am sure Mama will not mind. Come, you cannot go to a party in such an old rag. I know how much you have been looking forward to it, please, take one.’

  Erin put down the tray and wiped her hands involuntarily down her apron, then went to select a dress from the rail. After much suggestion and criticism from Caroline, she finally chose a lavender gown with a simple lace collar and cuffs which, when donned, changed the colour of her eyes from blue to amethyst.

  ‘Oh, Caroline, it’s lovely!’ Erin twirled before the glass. ‘Wait till Daddy sees me in this.’

  ‘I wish that I was going with you,’ said Caroline. ‘But I have to stay in my room till tea and do nothing more strenuous than read a book. I abhor Sundays.’

  Erin, with profuse thanks, took the dress to her room then returned to the kitchen to resume her work.

  ‘You’re looking bright today,’ said Cook, as Erin began to peel the vegetables for lunch.

  ‘’Tis my party this afternoon,’ replied the girl gaily.

  ‘How could you forget, Cook?’ said Alice who was also helping with the preparation of lunch. ‘She never talks of anything else.’

  Erin told them of Caroline’s contribution to her party apparel.

  ‘Then we’d best see what we can do, hadn’t we, Alice?’ Cook waddled to the larder and returned with a basketful of newly-baked pies, eggs, butter, cheese and ajar of beetroot.

  ‘Oh, Cook, you’re ever so generous!’ exclaimed Erin. ‘Mam won’t half be pleased.’

  ‘Aye, she’s good at being generous with other people’s stuff is Cook,’joked Alice, and beat violently at the Yorkshire Pudding mixture. ‘I’m surprised she hasn’t put a bottle o’ the master’s best sherry in an’ all. Eh, Mr Johnson!’ she shouted, as the manservant appeared with a great selection of silver that required polishing. ‘You don’t fancy makin’ a donation to Erin’s party, do you? How about leavin’ t’cellar keys on table by accident?’

  Johnson, dourfaced as usual, rolled up his sleeves and began to clean the silver.

  ‘Keep that polish away from my cooking,’ warned Rose. ‘We don’t want to poison her ladyship.’

  ‘You speak for yourself,’ muttered Alice, adding cheekily, ‘Any road, a bit o’ polish in the gravy might brighten her up a bit.’

  ‘Oh, Alice, you are a caution,’ laughed Rose, taking the joint from the oven to baste it. ‘I don’t know where you get it from.’

  ‘Why, I get it from you, Cook,’ replied Alice. ‘Don’t think I didn’t notice you letting them ashes fall into that roasting tin.’

  Cook spun round indignantly, then saw the gleam of mischief in Alice’s eye. ‘Well,’ she chortled, ‘it adds to the flavour, that’s what I always say.’

  Despite Erin’s fears
that the afternoon would never come, the little hand eventually crept up to the two and she dashed off to wash and change. Within ten minutes her face was clean and pink, devoid of the sooty smudges from the flue, her hair hung down in loose waves, gleaming like an ebony cape over the lavender dress. Before returning to the kitchen she dashed to Caroline’s room to say a last goodbye.

  ‘You look simply lovely, Erin,’ praised Caroline. ‘That gown suits you much better than it ever did me. And to put your mind at rest, I have told Mama about lending it to you and she did not mind one bit.’

  ‘She didn’t?’ said Erin doubtfully.

  ‘Of course not, I told you she wouldn’t. You really do paint her in a bad light, Erin. She is not as you imagine her to be at all.’

  ‘If ye say so.’

  ‘I do. She’s been most terribly kind to me of late. She has apologised for all my years of loneliness and has explained that our separation was not of her making. She is to make it all up to me, she says, and I must confess that I have never been so happy in all my life.’

  Erin smiled. ‘I’m glad for ye, Caroline. I’m glad you’re happy. Though I do miss not seeing so much of ye.’

  ‘And I miss you too, Erin.’ Caroline hugged her tightly. ‘But we still have our lessons together, do we not?’

  ‘Yes, we do, but I wonder for how long?’ said Erin into the other girl’s shoulder. The lessons could not remain undiscovered forever.

  ‘Why, for as long as we continue to be friends of course,’ said Caroline. ‘And that is for always. For if ever I should lose your friendship, Erin, I am certain I would die.’

  ‘Oh, Caroline, you’re so intense.’

  ‘No, I am serious,’ cried the other. ‘You are the best friend I shall ever have. I could not possibly bear the thought of us parting.’ She sniffed and wiped her eyes. ‘Oh, there, I’ve gone and put teardrops on your dress.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter,’ replied Erin happily. ‘They’ll soon dry. Anyway, I must go if I’m not to miss the party.’ She kissed Caroline and with a hasty look at herself in the mirror went down to the kitchen to collect her gifts for Thomasin.

  ‘Oh, Alice, come and take a look at Erin,’ cried Cook. ‘She’s a real picture.’

  Alice, though feeling slightly envious of Erin’s beautiful appearance, considered it childish not to agree. ‘Aye, she looks more like a lady than Miss Caroline,’ she said kindly. ‘Don’t she, Mr Johnson?’

  ‘Very nice,’ said the manservant with a cursory glance from his newspaper. ‘Don’t be too late back, girl, else the door will be locked.’

  ‘That’s as near a compliment as you’ll get from him,’ whispered Alice, then said loudly, ‘Have a nice time and don’t drink too much of the master’s sherry.’

  ‘What’s that, Alice?’ barked Johnson.

  ‘I’m only jokin’,’ said Alice and distorted her mouth at Erin. ‘Go on, lass, off yer go.’

  ‘Bye, Alice. Bye, Cook,’ shouted Erin swinging the basket onto the crook of her arm. ‘Bye, Mr Johnson.’

  ‘And may one ask where you are going, girl?’

  Everyone turned to the staircase, the jovial atmosphere fizzling out. No one had heard her come down.

  Erin blinked nervously at Helena who waited impatiently for an answer.

  ‘’Tis my afternoon off, ma’am.’

  ‘On whose instructions?’ challenged Helena.

  ‘Why, it was just taken for granted that it was my Sunday afternoon, ma’am.’

  ‘It seems to me that rather too much is taken for granted around here,’ replied the mistress imperiously. ‘For instance, the dress which you are wearing; I believe that it belongs to my daughter.’

  ‘Caroline said I could borrow it,’ objected Erin, but Helena cut off her words.

  ‘When referring to my daughter, Feeney, you will use the correct term of address, which is Miss Caroline or Miss Cummings.’ She lowered her gaze to Erin’s arm. ‘And what of the basket of groceries? Do you also take the food in my larder for granted?’

  ‘That was my fault, madam,’ Rose owned up. ‘It was only a few bits and pieces for her to take to the party. Only a few leftovers.’

  Helena stalked up to Erin and lifted the cover on the basket. ‘You call those “bits and pieces”, Cook? I would call it thievery!’

  ‘Madam!’

  ‘Can you think of another word for it?’ demanded Helena. ‘No. Sheer and blatant thievery. If I were a vindictive woman, Cook, then you would find yourself in the most serious trouble. I sometimes think that you overestimate my leniency.’

  ‘Oh, no, madam,’ said Cook. ‘I’d never do that.’

  ‘Be quiet! Feeney, replace those items in the larder and be quick about it.’

  Erin shot past the mistress to the larder while Helena turned her wrath on Johnson. ‘Johnson, I had assumed you to be a responsible person yet you allow this sort of behaviour. Why?’

  ‘I knew nothing about it, madam,’ answered Johnson.

  ‘Then you should make it your business to know,’ snapped Helena. ‘You incompetent fool. Very well,’ she turned back to Cook, ‘I will overlook your dishonesty this one time, but any similar occurrence will earn you a place in one of Her Majesty’s prisons. Feeney, you will go at once to my daughter and return the dress which you took without permission, and then you will return to the kitchen to carry out your duties. By your actions you have forfeited your right to time off.’

  ‘But they’re expecting me at the party,’ protested Erin.

  ‘Are you questioning my authority?’ snarled Helena. ‘I said you are to return to your duties. And your insolence has just cost you dearly. From today you will receive one month’s notice, is that understood? A month should give me sufficient time to replace you.’ With that she was gone.

  ‘Oh, the cruel bitch,’ spat Alice going over to put her arm round Erin. But Erin slipped from her grasp and with a strangled sob ran up the stairs to her own room.

  * * *

  The guests began to arrive in dribs and drabs; Jimmy and Molly with their horde of children, two of Patrick’s workmates and their spouses, old neighbours, new ones (though not Miss Peabody) and the indispensable fiddler who was closely followed by Father Kelly. The latter proffered his bestowal to Patrick as his fellow Irishman showed him in.

  ‘Ye’ll not be holding Communion this week then, Father?’ said Patrick, taking the bottle from him.

  ‘We’ll have less o’ the blasphemous talk, Pat Feeney,’ replied Liam. ‘That happens to be a first class Madeira if ye don’t mind, given to me by one o’ my admirers.’

  Patrick laughed. ‘Sure, there cannot be many o’ those about.’ He steered Liam into the party, where the other guests were being handed glasses by Thomasin.

  Liam thanked her as she handed one to him, then looked inside it. ‘But sure, ’tis no good empty!’

  ‘If you hold yer tongue you might get it filled,’ she told him. ‘Your glass, I mean, not your tongue. Right, hold out yer glasses, everyone, we might as well make a start on Father Kelly’s communion wine.’

  ‘Now don’t you start,’ spluttered Liam. ‘I’ve had enough o’ that irreverent chat from your husband.’

  A knock came at the door, interrupting the filling of glasses. ‘I’ll get it,’ said Patrick. ‘It’ll be your Mam an’ Dad.’

  He put down his glass and went to open the door. ‘Hello, Billy, Hannah, sure ye didn’t have to knock.’

  ‘Some of us have to have manners, Patrick,’ answered Hannah and slipped past him.

  ‘See tha’s got spies out,’ observed William, inclining his head towards the neighbouring window where the lace curtains moved ever so gently.

  ‘Aye, there’s not much goes on without Mrs P. knowing about it,’ Patrick told him, then shoved William indoors. ‘You watch, I’ll give her five minutes an’ she’ll be round with some excuse.’

  ‘Ah, yer here at last, are yer?’ said their daughter. ‘Pat, fetch me Mam an’ Dad a glass.’

 
Hannah apologised for being the last to arrive. ‘It’s your father,’ she explained. ‘He always insists on leaving it until the last few minutes to get ready.’ She eyed the Flaherty family warily. ‘I see that terrible woman is here. Let us hope we will not have a repetition of your wedding reception.’

  ‘By, God yer’ve got a long memory, Mother,’ said her daughter. ‘I’m quite sure yer can all get along if yer put yer minds to it.’

  Patrick took William’s arm and drew him aside. ‘Here, have a taste o’ that, Billy.’ He offered his father-in-law a glassful of colourless liquid which he had poured from the earthenware jug.

  ‘What the ’ell’s this yer givin’ me, bloody water?’ William examined the drink dubiously.

  ‘Water is it? I’ll bet ye cannot knock that back in one go,’ wagered Patrick.

  William raised the glass and tipped the liquid down his throat.

  ‘Hell’s teeth!’ he gasped, and wafted his mouth furiously to quash the fire within.

  ‘Keep yer language down,’ commanded Thomasin from the other side of the room. ‘There’re ladies present.’

  ‘Drop o’ good stuff, eh, Billy?’ laughed Patrick.

  ‘S’truth, it nigh on blows top of yer ’ead off,’ returned William. ‘What the ’ell is it?’

  Patrick winked. ‘Come, I’ll show ye.’ He led William towards the scullery.

  ‘Don’t be slopin’ off,’ called Thomasin. ‘I’m dependin’ on you to keep people’s glasses filled.’

  ‘I will be but a second, oh light of my life,’ replied her husband, guiding William through the kitchen, where he flung open a cupboard door.

  ‘There, what d’ye think o’ that?’

  ‘I’m still no wiser,’ said William, staring at the container full of frothy water with tubes leading out of it into earthenware casks.

  ‘Why, ye just said it, man – still.’ A grin. ‘I cannot think why I never had the gumption to make one before. All these years I’ve been pouring my money into the publicans’ pockets an’ it never crossed me mind.’ He poured himself a cupful from one of the casks. ‘Ah, ’tis a wee drop o’ heaven, Billy, d’ye not think?’