Angela’s heart would have been easier if she could have seen her youngest child that Christmas morning. Eileen had bought Chrissie mittens, a scarf and bonnet in muted pastel colours that looked a treat with her winter coat and she was as warm as toast as she walked to Mass.
‘Don’t say Chrissie is from the workhouse,’ Eileen had said to John the previous evening.
‘Why?’
‘Because it will be easier for her to make friends and fit in better if people don’t know she is from the workhouse. Many make assumptions about children from that place and surely that slur hasn’t got to follow her all the days of her life.’
‘So who should I say she is?’
‘Could you say she’s your ward?’
‘Wouldn’t people think it odd she hasn’t been seen before now?’ Father John said. ‘Anyway, it’s not true and I am a priest. I can’t go round telling lies.’
‘Course you can if it’s going to help someone else,’ Eileen said. ‘Do you think your God would prefer you to tell the truth when because of that truth a child will suffer for something that’s not their fault?’
‘Eileen—’
‘I’m just saying, the God I worship wouldn’t want me to do that.’
Father John laughed. ‘You can’t possibly say what God wants,’ he said. ‘I have to do what is right.’
‘Right for who?’ Eileen demanded. ‘Right for you and your conscience or right for an innocent child? You know the life she’ll have if everyone knows she comes from the workhouse.’
Father John remembered telling Masters that Chrissie might have a better chance of employment as she was living no longer at the workhouse, but reflected that wouldn’t be the case if everyone knew about it anyway.
‘Look,’ Eileen went on. ‘I will say she’s the orphaned daughter of a very dear friend of mine. You just have to nod, if you are so concerned about a sin on your soul.’
‘What about your soul?’
‘I’ll take a chance on mine,’ Eileen said. ‘I’m telling a lie in a good cause and that makes a difference.’
When Chrissie was told what Eileen intended, she was pleased. She had no desire to tell everyone she had been brought up in the workhouse, because she knew people would judge her and she’d already had her share of that.
‘It’s only a little lie,’ Eileen said. ‘Because you don’t have any contact with your mother and father you may as well be an orphan. You don’t mind telling people that?’
‘No, I’d much prefer it to the truth,’ Chrissie said.
And so she became Chrissie Foley, the orphaned daughter of Eileen’s best friend, and was afforded respect because she lived with the priest and his sister.
Connie was glad they had been invited to Maggie’s for dinner and that Breda had given Angela the whole day to celebrate with her. Maggie’s house was beautifully decorated and there was a tree with a twinkly star on the top, festooned with glass balls which shimmered in the light from the candles.
‘Oh, how pretty it all is,’ Connie exclaimed, following her mother in. They had presents for them all: warm slippers for Maggie, whisky and socks for Michael and a pretty bed jacket for Hilda.
The Christmas dinner was marvellous but Maggie waved away their thanks and praise.
‘Don’t be embarrassing me,’ she said. ‘I’m used to cooking for many people now. It becomes like second nature and Christmas is the absolutely right time to get together with family and friends.’
Angela smiled. ‘Well, I think I can speak for Connie as well when I say that we really appreciate it.’
Connie nodded in agreement and Maggie smiled at her. Connie loved Maggie and always had, and Angela hadn’t been the only one to miss her when she’d moved to Pershore Road. Angela knew there was a bond between them and throughout that Christmas Day in Maggie’s house she’d been impressed with the easy way Maggie had with Connie. She thought it a tragedy that she’d had no children of her own because she was so much better with Connie than she was.
Connie thought so too. Maggie seemed really interested in her, listening to what she was saying, and she understood her passion for books. That day, Angela was learning things that Connie had never discussed with her, like the names of the librarians she had made such friends of, and the great job she’d had through the holidays in the library that she hoped to repeat.
Maggie asked about school and there again Connie said the reference library was a mine of information.
‘It’s so much easier to work in the quiet,’ she told Maggie enthusiastically. ‘The librarians always give me a hand if I need it, especially the younger one, Miss McGowan. She’s really good at finding just the books I need for whatever it is I’m studying. She’s really lovely and ever so helpful.’
Angela had a sudden and unexpected pang of jealousy strike her heart to hear her daughter speak so warmly about a librarian. And she felt guilt too, because she was the one who’d urged Connie to go for matriculation and so she should have been the one to support and encourage her. She had let her down and the first chance she got she would try to put things right between them.
After such a delicious dinner and sumptuous pudding, no one seemed inclined to move at first and they sat around the table talking of other Christmases they remembered from when they were children. Angela spoke again of the last Christmas before the world went mad, before the men enlisted.
‘Yes,’ Maggie said. ‘And then the men were gone and you and I were making shells together, Angela, and somehow the world was never the same again.’
‘No,’ Michael agreed, getting to his feet. ‘Anyway, as this washing-up won’t do itself, shall we get on with it? And then I must see to Mammy because she’s been very restless today.’
Maggie groaned but could see Michael’s point and began piling the plates up. They all helped with the washing-up and, when the kitchen was tidy once more, Michael went off to his mother’s room with a cup of tea and a mince pie. Hilda had not been well enough to have Christmas dinner with them and had eaten hers in bed. Maggie poured tea for Angela, Connie and herself and they sat around the table. Maggie also put down a plate of mince pies but they were all too full to think of eating one.
‘Oh, I forgot to tell you, Connie,’ Angela said. ‘Harry came to see me in the pub a few weeks ago.’
‘What did he do that for?’ Connie asked.
Angela knew better than to say Harry had asked her to go to America with him. According to her daughter, she had been married to her father and that should be enough for her. She could and should live like a vestal virgin all the days of her life. So she said instead, ‘He came to say goodbye as he was going back to the States. Sent his regards to you too.’
‘That was nice of him,’ ’Connie said. ‘Was it always on the cards that he’d go back?’
‘Eventually he would have done, I suppose,’ Angela said. ‘Though I must admit he seemed fairly settled in England. I suppose he might have been here far longer, but his father became ill and the doctor said he had to take things easier so his mother sent for Harry to take over the business.’
‘What a pity when he had done so much in the shop and everything.’
‘Oh, he’s not giving the shop up,’ Angela said.
‘Who’s taking it on then?’
‘You’ll never guess,’ Angela said.
‘No. Who?’
‘Stan.’
‘Stan!’ Connie exclaimed. ‘Does he know anything about running a shop?’
‘Well, I’d say more than he did anyway,’ Angela said. ‘Harry seems quite happy. Apparently he has been helping him on Saturdays for some time as Daniel is out and about with the friends he has made at college then.’
‘I am glad of that, anyway,’ Connie said. ‘I mean about Daniel, because he was never encouraged to make friends, was he, when he was being brought up by his aunt and uncle?’
‘No. His aunt in particular wanted to almost possess him body and soul. If he had no friends he was reliant on his aunt and uncle for company.’
‘Yes, but that’s not really healthy, is it?’ Maggie said.
‘No, course it wasn’t,’ Angela agreed.
‘The point is, he thought it was a normal way to go on,’ Connie said. ‘And because he never had friends, never went to their houses and none came to his house, to him it was normal. It was only when he was at uni that he realised how restricted his life was, but all those years of being more or less isolated from his peers, except when they were in lessons at school, affected him.’
‘How d’you mean?’
‘Well, he always seemed a bit lonely to me,’ Connie said. ‘I recognised that straight away, because I have often felt that way myself and know how soul-destroying it is.’
There was a silence after Connie’s words and to cover this Connie said to her mother, ‘Anyway, Stan helping Harry out on Saturdays isn’t the same as single-handedly running a shop.’
‘Yes, but you see, Harry said Stan was finding the foundry work harder for him as he grew older,’ Angela said. ‘And so Harry made him a partner and he has been showing him the ropes for a month or more. Balancing the books flummoxed him a bit, but Daniel said he’ll help him there.’
‘Oh yes, and I bet when Daniel has shown him how to do it and explained it to him, Stan will be able to do it himself,’ Connie said. ‘Daniel will make a great teacher because he really is the only person who could explain things I was finding difficult. He was so good at it that they suddenly became crystal clear and I could see immediately where I was going wrong.’
‘Didn’t he used to help you with your homework?’ Maggie said.
Connie nodded. ‘Yes, and it was him who told me about the library and showed me how to use the reference side of it. It was a good job, because we never see him or Stan any more because of some stupid falling-out between Mammy and Stan that really should have been sorted out ages ago.’
‘Connie, you have no right to …’ Angela began.
Connie noted her mother’s crimson cheeks, which she knew signified how cross she was, but for once she didn’t care.
‘No right to what, Mammy? No right to an opinion? I think I have.’
‘It’s rude. You are being rude.’
‘Why is it rude to say what I think?’ Connie demanded. ‘And I’m right as well. If I had fallen out with a friend I had had since the year dot, you’d want to know the ins and outs of it and advise me to make friends again.’ There was a slight pause and then Connie added, ‘At least, that’s what you would have done once, when you noticed I was there and cared what I did.’
Angela gave a gasp, but her face flushed, for she knew Connie had a valid point. However, she didn’t think this was the time or place to talk of such things, so she said quite sharply, ‘That will do. I think you have said quite enough. I think this is an appalling way to behave on Christmas Day and in someone else’s house.’
Connie acknowledged that and she turned to Maggie and said, ‘I’m sorry, Maggie. That was wrong of me.’
‘It’s all right,’ Maggie said, for though she’d heard Connie’s angry words, she also heard the bewildered unhappiness behind it. She knew Connie was trying to reach out to her mother to show she was still important to her. She hoped Angela realised what she was trying to say. ‘No harm done.’
As Angela and Connie returned home that crisp and cold Christmas evening, Connie braced herself for the scolding she was expecting from her mother, but it never came. When Angela thought about what Connie had said, she realised all her daughter had done was speak the truth as she saw it and she wasn’t far wrong either. Angela had to admit that when she’d been seeing Eddie McIntyre she’d thought of little else but him. Everyone else was way down the list – even Connie.
Angela knew that she was cross only because Connie had spoken in front of Maggie. Her daughter’s actual words had been truthful enough and had also showed Angela how hurt Connie had been by her seeming indifference.
She was right, for Connie was still wary and disappointed in her mother. She had always thought her strong and true, someone who would hold to what was right, no matter what. To see her change so completely, presumably because of the influence of one man, unsettled her. Previously, she had known where she stood and her mother had instilled in her a strong moral code to live her life by. When Angela had thrown her own moral code into the air, Connie had felt the solid ground beneath her feet shift.
Now this Eddie McIntyre had disappeared back to the America he’d come from, her mother had reverted to the mother she always had been. And yet Connie couldn’t entirely relax, because what was going through her mind was the thought that Eddie could return at any time. Or what if her mother met another man intent on leading her astray as this Eddie McIntyre seemed to have been and she was unable to stand against him as well?
Connie wished she could ask her mother these questions but she couldn’t and so she fretted about it all the time, so much so she felt as if there was a chasm separating them.
Angela didn’t know exactly how Connie felt but she knew enough to know she was desperately unhappy. She knew things had to change and it was time to build bridges with her daughter.
Later, after Angela and Connie had left, Maggie told Michael a little of the disagreement Connie had had with her mother and went on to say, ‘I think Connie was confused and unhappy about Angela’s behaviour with McIntyre. I mean, she said as much the day I met her on Bristol Street, remember I told you about it?’
Michael nodded. ‘I bet she was as pleased and relieved as you were when you found out McIntyre had gone back to America.’
Maggie nodded her head and said fervently, ‘Not half. The point is, Michael, I have known Angela all my life and the things I was hearing about her … Well, it was like she was a different person. I think she was in the grip of a wild infatuation with the man. I know it happens.’
‘And you think Angela is that stupid?’
‘She has been my friend for years,’ Maggie said with spirit. ‘But when she told me she had stopped thinking of Barry as a brother and started thinking of him as a lover just before they married, I don’t think that was necessarily true.’
‘You mean she didn’t love Barry?’
‘Oh, she loved him all right,’ Maggie said. ‘But somewhere the lines between brother and lover merged. Though she said sex between them was enjoyable, she also said it was more making love together rather than just sex. She also said Barry had to be very careful even after marriage, because when the war began he didn’t want to leave Angela with another mouth to feed.’
‘Ah,’ Michael said. ‘That would mean he would have to pull back when the … You know what I mean … ahem, before it was properly over. God, that’s damned hard to do when you’re coming to the climax, which is the best bit for a man.’
‘It would be hard for Angela too, I’d say,’ Maggie said. ‘She would constantly feel dissatisfied and frustrated but probably have had no idea why she felt like that. And that was the only experience of sex she ever had – and she didn’t have it for that long either. But she must have buried any latent sexual desires deep in her heart, for never did she put a foot wrong all the years I have known her.’
‘And then along came McIntyre.’
‘Basically yes,’ Maggie said. ‘She was attracted to him from the beginning but she denied it. She told me he was funny and charming and made her laugh and her eyes would sparkle when she spoke his name.’
‘So why did she agree to go out with him in the end?’
Maggie shrugged. ‘Maybe she eventually acknowledged the fascination she had for this man and went out with him like a lamb to the slaughter.’
‘Aren’t you being a little dramatic?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Maggie said. ‘McIntyre was an experienced and oversexed gigolo. To him, Angela would have been like a blank page, almost an untried virgin. On that first date he would have known by her own account how naïve and artless she was. He would also have known Angela would soon be like putty in his hands. I think he set out to seduce her. Then he attacked and threatened her when she didn’t continue to comply.’
‘It’s a good thing that McIntyre took himself back to America where he belongs,’ Michael said. ‘Or I might have got a couple of chaps together to encourage him to go. I have no time for a man who raises his hand to a woman.’
‘Very glad to hear it,’ Maggie said with an impish grin. ‘For if you thought any differently I’d have to take up boxing lessons.’
On Boxing Day, Angela told Breda she could no longer do the cleaning in the pub. With her pension and the cash she earned working behind the bar, they had plenty of money to live on. Giving up the cleaning meant she could eat breakfast with Connie every day.
Breda could quite understand why Angela wanted more time at home and thought she was right, for Connie’s sake as well as her own.
‘Who shall I get to replace you though?’ she said.
‘Well, I have been giving that some thought,’ said Angela. ‘My first choice was Nancy Webster, but she told me when I asked her that she is going to look after Jennifer’s baby when she goes back to work in the New Year. Her man has been out of work six years now and they desperately need Jennifer’s money. So then I asked Maeve Maguire and she was more than willing if you are agreeable.’
Breda smiled, for she knew Maeve to be a respectable and honest woman who had raised polite and well-mannered children. She would suit very well, especially as Angela offered to stay on for a while to show Maeve the ropes.
It was Connie’s reaction that brought tears to Angela’s eyes though. When she told her daughter that she would no longer be cleaning in the pub so that they could have breakfast together every day, the girl threw her arms around her mother.
‘Oh Mammy, I am so glad,’ she said. ‘I have missed you so much.’