Twenty-Six

‘Will you please give her to me, and I will bathe her,’ Molly said.

‘But Mammy . . . !’

‘Do you not trust me to do the job, Breda?’ she said. ‘Have I not had seven children of my own?’

And where are they now, she asked herself? Scattered. Kieran busy in his parish in England, though next year he would come home for a visit; Kathleen as happy as a lark in her convent; Moira – well, who knew whether she was happy or not? She had enough of this world’s goods to make her so, Barry had done well, but Moira had always wanted more of everything, right from a little girl. Patrick and Colum were doing all right in America, and now the both of them engaged to two sisters, who from their photographs looked nice girls. Little Maeve was in the churchyard, though she would never forget her. And now, thanks be to God, Breda back home in Kilbally, even though ’twas only for a week, for hadn’t the pair of them, Breda and Graham alike, to be back at their jobs next Monday morning?

She held out her arms. ‘Come to Grandma, then, and she’ll give you a nice, warm, bubbly bath!’

Eileen put out her arms in reply. She liked this new woman in her life, she was round and soft, and spoke quietly. She smiled broadly, showing her eight front teeth, and uttered words which no-one understood but she knew said, ‘I’d like you to bath me, Grandma!’

‘You see!’ Molly said triumphantly. ‘She wants to come to me! Who’s Grandma’s darling, then?’

‘You spoil her,’ Breda said. ‘Heaven knows what she’d be like if you had her here all the time.’

The accusation was good-tempered. What else could you expect when it was the first time Mammy had seen her granddaughter, and she almost a year old now.

‘’Twas a pity you could not come to Hebghyll this summer, Mammy,’ she said. ‘We’ve done a lot in the house. I’d like you to have seen it.’

‘I would have. And I will next year. But someone had to look after Grandma Byrne – God rest her soul! – and who else but me? There was a lot to do for her towards the end.’

Josephine had come from Akersfield for her mother’s funeral, bringing all the news of Breda and the baby which hadn’t found its way into letters.

‘She’s a lovely child,’ Josephine enthused. ‘And Breda’s a great little mother, in spite of the fact that she has her job and is getting quite well known for it. Did you know she had such talent?’

‘I knew she had something special,’ Molly said. ‘I didn’t know what it would turn out to be.’

Now she carried Eileen into the bathroom with Breda following behind. It being half-day closing in Kilbally, Graham had gone into Ennis with Luke, who needed to visit a wholesaler.

‘Mammy can watch,’ Molly said to Eileen. ‘But Grandma is doing the deed!’

She lowered the child into the water and encouraged her to slap the surface with the flat of both hands. Eileen screamed with delight at the result.

‘She’s a bright one!’ Molly said. ‘Do you remember, that’s what Dada used to call you? The Bright One!’

‘I do,’ Breda said. She remembered most things about Dada. She would never forget him, though Luke O’Reilly, she realized now, had been a better husband to Mammy than Dada had.

‘Do you remember when he went off to Galway races and left you behind? My, but you were furious!’

‘And he brought me back a hair slide. I have it still. I keep it in my treasure box, with my pebbles. Did you know I still had my treasure box?’

‘I did not.’

‘It was a wonderful idea you had there, Mammy. I shall give Eileen a treasure box as soon as she’s old enough.’

‘You chose a nice name – Eileen,’ Molly said.

‘If she had been a boy I would have called her James, after Dada,’ Breda said.

‘Next time, perhaps,’ Molly said.

She lowered the child onto its back, its head resting on her arm while she gently lathered its hair. Bright auburn hair, it was. Exactly like Breda’s.

‘She’s the spitting image of you,’ Molly said.

Breda laughed. ‘Grandma Prince says she’s exactly like Graham when he was a baby!’

‘Stuff and nonsense!’ Molly said firmly.

‘Well, if it makes her happy I don’t mind,’ Breda said. ‘She’s as soppy about Eileen as you are, though she doesn’t see her often.’

‘And what about this new job of yours? You’ve never said much in your letters, but Josephine was full of it when she was over.’

She rinsed the lather from the baby’s hair, then pulled out the bath plug, lifted the child, and wrapped her in a warm towel.

‘’Tis not new,’ Breda said. ‘I was at it before I had Eileen. I had to give it up for a while, of course, and then I went back to it. But you know all that.’

‘I don’t know how you do it,’ Molly said. ‘’Twas all I could do to cope with the children and the home. I couldn’t have done anything else.’

‘But you did, Mammy!’ Breda contradicted. ‘Didn’t you always help out at the Big House? Cleaning and polishing.’

‘Oh, that!’ Molly was dismissive. ‘’Twas not a real job, and only part time.’

‘In a way, so is mine. I arrange my own hours, and I do a lot of it in my own home.’

And I have Grace, she thought. What would I do without Grace? Grace came whenever she was needed, looked after the baby as if it were her own, and vanished when she was no longer required so that Breda had the house back to herself. Grace was cheerful, sympathetic, capable – and she enjoyed her job. Eileen loved her, and her love was returned.

‘I could have done none of it if I hadn’t found Grace,’ she said to her mother. ‘And thankfully Graham took to her from the word go.’

Her first job, after she had returned to Opal’s in the January of 1951 had been to redesign and refurbish every room in Mrs Stevens’s house. ‘I owe it to you for introducing me to Grace,’ she’d said.

After that, commissions had flowed in, for Mrs Stevens, like Mrs Alderton before her, spread the gospel far and wide. ‘If anyone wants to see what you can do, let them come and see my house!’ she’d said. Since then, Breda had never been without work, and usually she had a waiting list. Miss Opal was cock-a-hoop.

‘I think next year,’ she said, ‘you should spend one day a week in the Leasfield store, for consultations.’

It was Opal who had also suggested that they should tender for the refurbishing of the White Horse, an old hotel on the outskirts of Hebghyll which had changed hands and was to be completely renovated for reopening in the spring of the following year.

Breda had been doubtful. There would be great competition for the job from well beyond Hebghyll. Everything she had done so far had been intimate, for a single person, or a couple or family, in their own home. The White Horse, when it was finished, would be the best hotel for miles around.

‘What could be better than bringing the feel of a really beautiful home into an hotel? Why not have a go?’ Opal urged. ‘If we win it, I’ll see you have all the help you require. You’ll have no need to do any part that isn’t purely creative.’ So Breda had let herself be persuaded, and now awaited the outcome.

Molly dressed Eileen in her nightclothes and carried her into the kitchen. ‘A drink of warm milk,’ Breda said. ‘Then time for bed – though your Dada’s going to be disappointed if you’re asleep when he gets back.’

‘So is Luke,’ Molly said. ‘He has fallen for her hook, line and sinker. ’Tis the greatest pity he never had children of his own. Wouldn’t he have made the best of fathers!’

Half an hour later Luke came in, followed quickly by Graham. ‘Where’s my little girl?’ Graham called out.

‘Gone to bed, not ten minutes ago,’ Breda said.

He bounded up the stairs. When he came down again, fifteen minutes later, he said: ‘She was awake. She was pleased to see me. She’s gone off to sleep now.’

‘So what are you two going to do tomorrow?’ Molly asked as they sat at supper. ‘I’ve told you I’ll look after Eileen all day, if you like. Luke can manage without me in the shop for once.’

‘What I’d like best,’ Breda said, ‘is to go for a long walk along the cliffs. And afterwards down to the strand.’ She looked across the table to Graham.

‘A walk down memory lane,’ he said. ‘Well, it sounds just fine to me.’

It was fortunately a fine day. They set off mid-morning, taking a packed lunch. ‘Where first?’ Graham asked Breda.

‘To the strand, I think. I’d like to walk on the beach.’

They did so, taking off their shoes. Graham tied his around his neck and carried Breda’s in his hand. They strolled, not hurrying, stopping to look in small rock pools which the sea had left behind.

‘We must bring Eileen here tomorrow,’ Graham said. ‘Show her how to dig holes in the sand.’

‘She’s much too young to do that!’ Breda said, laughing.

‘Then I’ll do it for her,’ Graham said. ‘She’ll enjoy it.’

‘I wanted so much to bring her to Kilbally,’ Breda said. ‘I want her to know she’s half-Irish. You don’t mind that, do you?’

‘Of course not! Wasn’t it the Irish in you I fell for, the minute you opened your mouth?’

He bent down and picked up a pebble, small and round, smooth as silk, patterned in blue and grey. ‘For your treasure box,’ he said, handing it to Breda.

‘Oh, isn’t that beautiful!’ Breda cried. ‘And now will I find one for you. Even if you haven’t a box, I can give you a treasure.’

Graham shook his head. ‘You’ve already done that, my love. Didn’t you give me yourself – and Eileen? That’s treasure enough for me.’

She put the pebble in her pocket and slipped her hand through Graham’s arm. ‘Oh Graham, I do love you!’ she said.

At the far end of the strand, they turned and walked back; then they put on their shoes and took the road which led to the high cliffs. The sun was high in the sky now, warm on their backs as they climbed. Breathless when they reached the top, they flung themselves down on the short grass near to the cliff edge.

The air was loud with the cries of seabirds, wailing and screeching like lost souls as they swooped around the black face of the cliffs. The sea, blue and green, white-topped with foam, banged and thudded rhythmically against the cliffs, the sound like the beat of deep bass drums punctuating the strident music of the birds. Breda watched a ferry boat heading for the Aran islands. And except for the islands, and behind them the long shape of Connemara, there was nothing but the sea.

‘When I was a little girl I used to think about crossing the water to America,’ she said to Graham. ‘I thought about it whenever I was fed up. Once I told Kieran that I’d swim there. I reckoned everything would be good in America, and wouldn’t Auntie Cassie and Uncle Fergal be waiting there on the beach to welcome me?’

‘But you never made it,’ Graham said.

‘I never made it as far as Connemara,’ she said, ‘let alone America! I suppose, deep down, I didn’t want to. I loved Kilbally.’

‘But you left it,’ Graham said. ‘And I for one am glad you did.’

‘And do you think I am not?’ Breda said. ‘’Twas the best day’s work I ever did, though I did not think so at the time. Wasn’t my heart breaking as I sat on that boat?’

They sat for a while in silence, watching the sea.

Presently Breda spoke again. ‘I shall always love Kilbally, but now I belong in Hebghyll. It’s my home; it’s where I want to be – with you, and Eileen and the other children we will have.’

Graham drew her close, and kissed her.

‘And now,’ she said cheerfully, ‘what about our sandwiches? I’m starving!’

It was teatime when they arrived back at the house. Molly, seeing them approaching, rushed to the door to meet them.

‘I’m so glad you’re here! Miss Opal telephoned!’ she said. ‘You’re to ring her back. She didn’t say what she wanted. Oh, I do hope nothing’s wrong! I hope you’re not going to have to leave us!’

‘It was probably Graham she wanted,’ Breda said, ‘not me.’

‘No, ’twas not. She said you. I’m sure I got that right.’

The telephone was in the passage which led through to the shop.

‘Come with me,’ Breda said to Graham.

She gave the Hebghyll number to the operator in Kilbally, then waited through several clicks and signals on the line until, at last, she was connected to the Hebghyll store.

‘It’s Breda Prince,’ she said. ‘I had a message to phone Miss Opal.’

That pause, until she heard Opal’s voice, seemed the longest of all. ‘Breda! Breda, we’ve won! The White Horse. We’ve got the contract!’

Breda could think of nothing to say. No words came to fill the silence.

‘Breda, can you hear me?’

Breda handed the telephone to Graham. ‘I don’t know what you’ve said to Breda,’ he began, ‘but she seems struck dumb by it! Can I help?’

‘I told her we’d won the contract for the White Horse,’ Opal said. ‘I said “we”, but really it’s Breda who’s done it! Aren’t you proud of her?’

‘Oh I am! I am indeed! But then, I’m not surprised. I always thought she would.’

‘Put her back on the line,’ Opal said. ‘I want to congratulate her.’

Graham handed the receiver to Breda.

‘Oh, Miss Opal, I couldn’t think what to say! I’m so pleased. It’s wonderful news,’ Breda said.

‘It most certainly is. I congratulate you most heartily. But I won’t keep you from your family any longer. I’ll see you next Monday morning at nine o’clock sharp, and we’ll discuss the details. Goodbye – and thank you, Breda!’

They travelled home on Friday, by way of Dublin, where they visited Kathleen, and stayed overnight with Moira and Barry, leaving early next morning. It was still daylight when the taxi they had hired at Hebghyll station drove up the moor road to Heather Cottage.

The cab driver lifted the suitcases into the hall, while Graham carried Eileen, now fast asleep against his shoulder. When he had driven away, Breda looked around her. ‘Home!’ she said. ‘Home! Oh, Graham love, it’s so good to be back. The three of us in our own place, where we belong.’

THE END