A Long Way from Heaven
Page 51
William had to agree and asked Patrick how it was made.
‘Praties,’ replied the Irishman succinctly. ‘An’ a little bit o’ knowhow.’
‘Mmm, could do wi’ one o’ them at ’ome,’ mused William sipping at his refilled glass, very carefully this time. ‘By, tha wouldn’t need much o’ that to get thee feelin’ frisky, would tha’?’
‘Yoo hoo, anybody in?’
‘There y’are!’ exclaimed Patrick. ‘What did I tell ye? Did I not say she’d be round?’ He knocked back his drink. ‘I’ll be right with ye Mrs P.!’
William followed him back to the front room as Nelly came in. She checked as if in surprise. ‘I’m most awfully sorry to incommode you, I didn’t realise you had visitors. I just came to let you know what has happened to Mrs Fry.’
‘Come in, Miss Peabody,’ answered Thomasin pulling Nelly into the throng. ‘I was going to come round and invite yer anyway. Yer might as well stop now that yer here.’
‘Well, I should hate to intrude,’ replied Nelly.
‘Nonsense, yer’ll be very welcome, won’t she, Pat?’
Patrick nudged his father-in-law. ‘Aye, about as welcome as a dose o’ pox in a brothel,’ he muttered from the side of his mouth. He stood and walked over to Nelly. ‘Ah, truly you’re welcome, Mrs P., and may I say you’re lookin’ very handsome today? Anyone would think ye were dressed for a party.’ He winked at William, then taking Nelly’s arm he asked courteously, ‘Would ye like to wet your whistle now you’re here, Mrs P.?’
‘Well, I’m not really a drinking woman, Mr Feeney,’ simpered Nelly.
‘Ah, go on, a drop o’ this won’t harm ye.’ He poured out a glass of poteen. ‘Look, ’tis like water really.’
‘Patrick,’ warned Thomasin in a threatening manner. ‘Perhaps our guest would rather ’ave a glass o’ this wine?’
‘No, I’d better not,’ said Nelly. ‘I’m not used to strong liquor. A small glass of the other stuff will be fine, just to drink your health you know.’
‘A discerning woman.’ Patrick smiled sweetly and handed her the glass. ‘Good health to ye, Mrs P.’
She sipped at it daintily. ‘It’s a bit strong.’
‘Here, let me put a drop o’ water in it for ye.’ Patrick poured some liquid from another jug into her glass, filling it to the brim. ‘There, tell me how that tastes.’
‘Ah, yes, much better,’ agreed Nelly, unaware that the liquid that he had added was not water but more poteen.
Patrick sat back next to William and waited smugly for the drink to take its effect, grinning at his wife who scolded him with her eyes.
After checking that everyone was enjoying themselves Thomasin went to sit with her husband. ‘I can’t think where that lass has got to,’ she puzzled. ‘She oughtta have been ’ere by now.’
‘Knowing the old witch that she works for,’ said Patrick sipping respectfully at his poteen, ‘she’s probably found a lot of extra work to do. I expect she’ll be along shortly.’
* * *
Caroline almost dropped her book as Erin burst in and stood panting in the doorway. ‘Erin, whatever has happened? I thought you would be at the party by now.’
‘There isn’t to be no party!’ yelled Erin. ‘Leastwise, not for me. You said she didn’t mind about the dress. Well she does, an’ she’s stopped me going to the party. I hate her!’
‘Do you mean Mama?’ asked Caroline perplexedly. ‘But it was true what I said, she did not seem to mind. Oh, Erin, I’m sure you must have got mixed up somewhere. She would not do a wicked thing like that.’
‘Mixed up am I?’ shouted Erin tearing off the dress and flinging it at Caroline. ‘I’ll tell ye how mixed up I am. In another month ye won’t be seeing any more o’ me ’cause I’m leaving, that’s how mixed up I am.’
‘Oh, surely not because of this?’ Caroline came towards her pacifyingly.
‘Because I’ve got the push,’ howled Erin, standing indignantly in only her underwear.
Caroline was alarmed. ‘But you can’t go, you’re my friend!’
‘Your mama doesn’t like us being friends,’ sniffed Erin, hoisting up her petticoat to wipe her face.
Caroline was nonplussed. ‘I cannot believe all this. It is most unlike Mama to do a cruel thing like keeping you from your party.’
‘Well, ’tis right.’
‘Then it is most unfair of her,’ decided Caroline. ‘In fact I would go so far as to say she is a… a gastropod.’
‘That won’t do me no good,’ sulked Erin.
‘Yes it will, because I have decided that since Mama is being so beastly she is not to be obeyed on this matter. You are going to the party, Erin,’ said Caroline boldly, ‘and I am to go with you.’
Erin’s lips parted. ‘But you cannot go!’
‘And why not, might one ask?’ said Caroline. ‘Anyway, you are wrong. A lady may go wherever she pleases, and has Mama not told me that I am a lady? Very nearly anyway. Oh, come on, Erin.’ She threw the lavender dress back at her friend. ‘Put that back on quickly while I change.’
‘But what if the mistress should find out?’ said Erin, struggling back into the dress while Caroline rifled her wardrobe. ‘An’ how do we get out without being seen?’
‘What if she does find out?’ Caroline donned a jade-coloured dress and jacket to match, dainty satin slippers and a bonnet covered in silk roses. ‘I shall tell her that she has no right to treat my friend in such a manner and that I shall speak to Papa about your reinstatement.’
‘I’m not sure I want to stay here,’ replied Erin, fastening Caroline’s sash and brushing out her blonde hair.
‘Don’t ever say such a thing!’ Caroline swirled on Erin and gripped her arms. ‘Don’t ever say you’ll leave me. I could not bear it without you.’
‘I thought ye were a lady,’ said Erin dryly. ‘Ladies don’t have scullery maids as friends.’
‘Why do you always have to make everything so difficult?’ She kissed Erin fondly. ‘Now come, we will be late for our party.’
Once their outfits were completed the two girls crept downstairs to the kitchen to tell Cook so that she would not worry over Erin’s disappearance. But worry Cook did.
‘Lor, what am I going to tell the mistress if she asks, Miss Caroline?’ she protested. ‘I daresn’t lie for you else she’ll finish me for sure.’
‘Then tell the truth,’ said Caroline calmly. ‘That as I disagree totally with the manner in which she has handled the situation I am countermanding her orders. Erin and I are going to a party.’
Chapter Forty-nine
‘’Tis A shame but there y’are,’ Patrick was saying to his wife, ‘we can’t hold up the festivities for her. Ghostie!’ he shouted. ‘Let’s be hearing a tune from your fiddle, or has he lost his voice?’
Ghostie took a swig from his glass and smacking his lips tucked the fiddle under his sagging chin and struck up a jig.
‘Oh dear,’ said Hannah faintly. ‘That music sounds very familiar, I hope it is not going to be like the last time we heard it.’
‘Oh, don’t be such a grump, Mother.’ Thomasin clapped her hands to the music. ‘C’mon, there isn’t much room for dancin’ but I want to see everyone enjoying themselves. All of yer, get them boots tappin’, hands clappin’. Away, Molly, have yer gone to sleep over there?’ she shouted.
‘Indeed I have not,’ slurred Molly, her eyes bright slits above the sculptured cheekbones; she looked amazingly clean for once. ‘I was just admiring all your nice paraphernalia. Sure, ye’ve come a long way since Britannia Yard. Ye’ve certainly got taste.’
‘Whatever would she know about that?’ breathed Hannah.
Thomasin ignored her mother and spoke to Molly. ‘Never mind pokin’ about in my cupboards, get your bottom up and give us a demonstration of yer dancin’ prowess.’
Without needing to be asked twice Molly cackled, sprang up and seized Patrick’s hands, pulling him from his seat.
‘Molly, will y
e have a heart? I was just resting me poor ould feet,’ he moaned.
‘Ould be damned,’ replied his would-be partner. ‘I’m not dancin’ unless ’tis with me favourite fella. Now will ye pump some life into those feet or do I have to roll up me sleeves to ye?’
Patrick hastily grabbed her around the waist and set off at a gallop. They careered between the clapping, stamping guests, eyes a-gleam from the poteen, cheeks red from the dancing, the oddest couple you ever did see, with Patrick’s tall frame towering over Molly’s wizened five feet two, laughing and teasing, swinging each other round in wild frivolity. The noise was deafening with the shrill cackle of the inebriated Molly accompanying the frenzied sawing of Ghostie’s fiddle. They staggered and collided with the onlookers, righted themselves and set off again, their dance interspersed with howls from Patrick as Molly stamped upon his toes.
All of a sudden Molly faltered and leaned against Patrick, opening and closing her eyes and breathing heavily. ‘Begob, Pat, I’ll have to sit down, that drink’s gone right to me head. Sure, I’m startin’ to see things that should never be there.’
‘’Tis not like you to be unable to hold your drink,’ laughed Patrick.
‘I know, I know, but I’m seeing things I tell ye. Will ye look over in the doorway? I’ll swear I saw an angel standing there.’
‘Oh? Then ye’d best have the baby clothes at the ready, Molly,’ chuckled Patrick, but turned around to investigate. He stopped laughing.
Everyone else looked round interestedly.
There, in the doorway, stood Caroline. Molly was right, she did look like an angel, with the light from the open front door behind her casting a golden halo around her ringleted head.
Erin stepped into the circle of astonished guests and led Caroline with her. ‘Hello, everybody, sorry I’m late. Oh, this is Caroline by the way,’ she added matter-of-factly.
Everyone stared at the lovely child who stood clutching her bonnet and looking around the room, then saying to the person nearest to her who happened to be Father Kelly, ‘How do you do?’
The magic was broken by Sonny who sat among the knot of Flaherty children with his brother, clutching a bottle of ginger ale. ‘What did ye bring her for?’ he asked, eyeing Caroline from head to foot.
‘John, have you no manners?’ Hannah came out of her trance and bustled forward to take Caroline under her wing. ‘How do you do, my dear? I am Mrs Fenton, Erin’s grandmother, and this is my husband, and these are Erin’s parents.’
Thomasin and Patrick edged forward and shook hands with the girl, muttering polite greetings.
‘I do hope that you will forgive the impropriety of inviting myself to your party,’ said Caroline, slipping off her jacket and handing it to Erin who took it away for safe-keeping. ‘But we had a slight problem at home. Mama did not want Erin to come.’
Patrick looked expectantly at his daughter. ‘Then how…?’
‘Oh, it is all my doing, Mr Feeney,’ provided Caroline, looking confidently at one of the female guests who gave up her seat to Caroline’s superior presence. ‘Erin has told me so much about you that I decided I would like to come and see for myself. I must say it is very…’ she examined the poor furnishings, the almost bare room, bare except for the human decoration which eyed her distrustfully ‘… it is very nice, very homely.’
‘Thank you, Caroline,’ said Thomasin, at last regaining her normal poise. ‘But what will your mother say when she finds you’re gone? Won’t she be annoyed?’
‘At first perhaps,’ admitted Caroline. ‘But I think she will understand when I explain.’
‘Let’s hope so,’ said Patrick. ‘I should hate my daughter to get the blame for your folly.’
Hannah gasped; had the man no idea of how to talk to civilised people?
‘Mr Feeney!’ Caroline’s eyebrows arched haughtily. ‘You are not suggesting that I would allow my friend to take the blame, are you?’ She rose stiffly. ‘If my presence is an imposition I can just as quickly go home. Come, Erin!’
‘I’m sorry!’ Patrick leapt in front of her and gestured for her to reseat herself; though still feeling uncomfortable in the girl’s presence he would not have Erin miss the party. ‘Pray, sit down, we were just about to eat when you arrived.’
Hannah seated herself between Caroline and her neighbour, squeezing her ample rear onto the row of chairs. ‘Would you care for a pastry, my dear? They are freshly-made.’
Caroline thanked her and placed one of the pastries onto a plate, accepting a cup of tea which Thomasin put into her other hand.
‘I must apologise in advance,’ whispered Hannah solicitously, ‘if you find my daughter’s guests a little, how shall we say? … base.’ She touched refined lips to her teacup, then lowered it. ‘Especially Mrs Flaherty over there, such a terrible woman. But what can one expect from someone of her class?’
Caroline leaned towards Erin who had returned to sit at her friend’s side, saying in a stage whisper, ‘Isn’t she a frightful snob?’
Erin winced as her grandmother, with a disquieted cough, retreated to the kitchen to shed her tears. ‘She doesn’t mean any harm,’ she explained.
‘I must say,’ piped up Caroline, ‘everyone seems to have gone terribly quiet. I do hope your reticence is not the result of my arrival?’
The guests looked at each other over their cups, not knowing what to say. They were unaccustomed to taking tea with the gentry.
‘I daresay we’ll all be a bit more talkative after we’ve finished eating,’ said Thomasin.
William, the only one who remained unencumbered by Caroline’s invasion, trotted over with a plate of assorted cakes and, never one to stand on ceremony, said, ‘’Ere, grab yerself a whatsit, lass, before all them greedy buggers eat ’em.’
Thomasin shrank visibly but to her amazement Caroline burst out laughing. ‘Oh, I can see that I am going to have such an enjoyable time.’
Caroline’s amusement at William’s blunt comment made things start to perk up a little. Tea over, Thomasin organised a singsong, which went quite well until some of the male guests started to put their own words to the songs.
Father Kelly clapped his hands. ‘Enough of this bawdiness. Are ye not forgetting ye have a lady in your midst? If ye cannot consider the morals of your own children I beg you to think of hers.’ Though Liam imagined that Caroline was enjoying the singing as much as everyone else, her face was fiery and her blue eyes fevered from the small glass of sherry that Erin had filched from the table.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ proceeded Liam. ‘It seems a pity, now that we have young Erin amongst us, not to take advantage of her musical skills. How about it, Erin? Will ye give us a taste of your harp?’
A roar of approval went up from the guests.
Erin asked where it was.
‘I’ll go fetch it,’ said her father, and bounded up the stairs to his bedroom.
The harp had stood in silence for many months now. Dust had collected in the carved recesses of its forepillar. Patrick traced his hand lightly over its magnificence and thought of his beloved father, left behind in Ireland and surely long-dead by now. Lifting the precious instrument carefully, he went downstairs and set it down in front of his daughter.
‘Erin, what an absolutely wonderful instrument!’ Caroline leapt from her seat and ran slim fingers over the harp. ‘You did not tell me that you could play.’
‘It never seemed to crop up in our talks,’ said Erin simply, then bade her friend be seated and carried the harp to the centre of the floor where she sat on a stool and prepared to play.
Molly, who was seated next to Nelly, swayed against her neighbour. ‘Have ye never heard our Erin play, Missus P.?’
Nelly shook her head and refilled her glass with ‘water’, her hand trembling under the weight of the jug, her vision becoming blurred.
‘Ah,’ said Molly. ‘’Tis like being with the angels. There’ll be enough tears to do the washing-up before her song is halfway through.’
‘Pat Feeney,’ said Thomasin, ‘if talk were brass we’d all be very rich indeed. Now, will yer let the lass get on wi’ it?’
Erin, her tuning completed, held the harp to her shoulder and closed her eyes. The guests became silent as the first chords escaped her fingers to caress their ears, trickling like an Irish mountain stream to wash away the poverty in which they lived. They listened intently, but with a dreamy look in each eye, these Irish souls thinking fondly of their homeland. Only Nelly remained unmoved, too far gone to hear the playing, tipping the jug yet again towards her glass.
The music neared its climax, soaring dramatically into a wonderful crescendo, then fading to nothingness. It took a few seconds for the listeners to return to reality, then a burst of hearty applause shook the room. Erin opened her eyes, which were smiling, and put the harp from her. She always felt drained after each playing, as though the harp were drawing out all her vitality through her fingertips.
‘Erin,’ cried Caroline through the applause, ‘I did not know that you were so talented. When we return home you must bring your harp with you so that Miss Elwood may sample the delights which I have heard tonight.’
The evening wore on with the guests reminiscing about the old days, how things used to be, the liquor chasing away any trace of discomfort at Caroline’s presence. Father Kelly watched Nelly sway precariously on her chair and hurried over to offer assistance.
‘Pat,’ he remarked, ‘’tis a treacherous man y’are to let her get in such a state. Have ye no common decency? The woman is almost pickled.’
Patrick shrugged and winked at his sons who were enjoying the spectacle immensely.
Liam prised the jug from Nelly’s hand and waved his fingers in front of her face. ‘You’re looking dangerous pale, Miss Peabody, would ye like to lie down?’