When she arrived home the next day, the first thing Kay did was to parcel up the piece of costume jewellery Dan had given her. Then she strolled up the road and dropped it in the post box. Let him pay the postage, she thought grimly. She couldn’t care less. And if it was sent to his house, well and good. Charlie might as well benefit from it. For all the poor woman had put up with from that monster over the years, she surely deserved some reward.
The afternoon Winifred arrived to whisk Molly off to Kilshaughlin for Christmas. She and Kay were not on speaking terms since the Pill episode and in silence, they supported Molly out to the car. A hearse stood at the kerbside. Ginny Halpin had caught pneumonia when on look-out duty at the fence and, after a brief illness, had died the previous day.
‘Poor Mrs. Halpin, the Lord have mercy on her,’ Molly said surprisingly. Earlier, despite Bill repeatedly telling her that the old woman was being removed that evening, she had failed to take it in. ‘But do I know her?’ she kept asking as if that, and not her demise, was the relevant thing.
Kay had noticed a disturbing change in Molly since she had returned from hospital. Her last fall had left her very frail and disorientated and everything had to be repeated to her twice, or three times before she understood. This made her sudden flashes of understanding even more disconcerting. The second time she had explained to her that her case was packed because she was going to Kilshaughlin to stay with Winifred, Molly had answered mildly, ‘Yes, dear, I do realise that. You really don’t have to keep telling me,’ making Kay feel the foolish one.
Now she called sweetly through the window, ‘Bye, love. Happy Christmas.’
Kay blew her a kiss and went back into the house, uncheered by her cousin’s lukewarm invitation for Peg and herself to join them on St. Stephen’s Day. In another week it would be Christmas and unless a miracle occurred, it promised to be the bleakest of her entire life.
At that precise moment, Maura Kane and Oliver McGrattan stood eyeing each other across the Chief Executive’s huge desk, not a trace of the Yuletide spirit in either of their hearts.
‘I’m holding you personally responsible,’ Oliver said coldly. ‘You must have said or done something to give Mrs. Mueller an erroneous impression of Celtic Airways.’ He tapped the magazine article on his desk with a manicured hand. ‘What kind of headline is that?’ he demanded. ‘An Irish Airline Disdains To Move With The Times.’
Maura stared back equally coldly. Her fault! How dare he! After all the meetings they had had during the year when he had refused point blank to give them their new hostess quarters. And he was the one who had forced the American woman on them. Let him suffer now. It was good enough for him!
Maura had read Sheila Mueller’s hatchet job on Celtic Airways with a mixture of chagrin and resignation. It was scathing but true. No one could deny they were housed in a row of ‘primitive huts more suited to an African compound than the glamorous woman’s section of a thriving mid-sixties airline.’
She had been given the scurrilous article by Elinor Page who, in turn, had received it from the Hostess Superintendent with instructions to ensure that every member of the hostess team read it. Amy had been angry but philosophical. Clearly the American woman felt she owed them no allegiance and was out to make any profit she could. But the rest of them in the hostess office seethed as they read it. Conniving bitch! To think they had welcomed her amongst them and this was how she repaid them.
‘Look, there’s no use giving ourselves wrinkles over it,’ Judy pointed out pragmatically, ‘She’s only describing what she saw and don’t forget she was invited expressly to do an operations research survey which is her legitimate work. This journalistic little piece is obviously her dessert,’ she wrinkled her nose distastefully. ‘Of course, if we had had any sense we wouldn’t have let the woman put foot inside the door.’
‘‘Why not face it, Oliver,’ Maura said coolly, ‘you’ve only yourself to blame. The hostess section is as shabby and primitive as Mrs. Mueller claims. For the past year we’ve been asking you in vain for new quarters but you’ve been so obsessed with cost-cutting and keeping your image bright, that your judgement has gone to pot. Now the whole world knows it and it serves you right. I’m off to Australia on winter leave and Eva Hendricks will be taking over while I’m gone. Try bullying her for a change.’
With that, Maura turned on her heel and left. She was fed up and never wanted to see his mean little face again. Let him do his worst, she thought.
Back in her office, she busily tidied her desk before going away. Men! She was disillusioned with the lot of them. And Simon. What a disappointment he had turned out to be!
In the three years since she had known Simon Cooney, there had been many happy moments and some doubtful ones. But not until Orla O’Neill had come into their lives had he ever strayed from her side for long. A desolate look came into her blue eyes as she thought how matters had recently come to a head at Ben Higgins’ party.
Maura had been really looking forward to it, not only because Captain Higgins was renowned for the fabulous parties he gave in his palatial Foxrock home but with Simon away on winter leave for most of November, she had seen so little of him. However on the morning of the party, she had received an urgent phone call from London to say that her mother had suffered a slight heart attack and was in the intensive care unit in St. Bartholomew’s Hospital. Maura had left word for Simon that she wouldn’t be able to go with him to the party after all and flown over at once. To her relief, she found her mother was not as ill as she feared - it had been more of a warning than anything else - and so was able to fly back that night to attend Ben’s party.
Bad enough, Maura thought, if Simon had taken someone home from the party but to have arrived with Orla on his arm! It was too much. She had been aghast at his treachery but had carried it off well.
‘Hi Simon,’ she had said, ‘if you had come any later you would have missed supper,’ and turned to give Captain Drummond, who was standing beside her, a ravishing smile. ‘Any time you’re ready for that dance, Eddie.’
It had not been easy enduring the sight of a drunken Simon wrapped about the other hostess, or hearing Orla’s confident, jarring laugh but somehow Maura had managed it. Even Christy’s pointed, ‘Given lover boy the push at last, acushla. Bully for you!’ failed to rise her. As soon as she could, she had made her excuses to Captain Higgins and left the party.
She had been in the hall slipping into her evening coat, when Captain Drummond appeared suddenly by her side and offered to drive her home.
‘No bother,’ he had assured her with a smile, ‘A pleasure, in fact.’
‘Thanks Edward, but I have my car outside.’ Even in her distress, Maura had been surprised and touched.
‘I liked Eddie better,’ he had replied thoughtfully, making her blush for her earlier familiarity.
Remembering, Maura smiled faintly. He had been very understanding. He wasn’t devastatingly handsome like Graham Pender or Ben Higgins but he had a quiet strength about him which she found appealing and his manner was always easy and warm. His support that night had been a great comfort.
As for Simon, no doubt sooner or later he would stop phoning and leaving messages. She felt a pang at the thought but suffered it determinedly. So far she hadn’t given in and spoken to him and only prayed she wouldn’t weaken before going away.
There were times when Maura regretted not carrying out her intention to transfer Orla on to the Boeings, but she had felt distaste at interfering with the training programme. If Simon didn’t care enough for her to resist the lures of other women, he wasn’t worth losing sleep over. He had indulged himself once too often and she was finished with him. She could never have any respect for herself if she allowed him to get round her this time.
She had been through a tough few weeks, but she had survived them. Just about. Tomorrow she was off on winter leave. She locked some items in her drawer that she didn’t want Eva touching and frowned as she recalled how the Hostess Superintendent had sprung it on her that she was placing her niece in charge of the section while she was away. Amy Curtis had made no pretence at discussion, or even bothered to enquire if Maura had any preferences in the matter, just presented it as a fait accompli. So much for nepotism.
There had been a lot of subdued grumbling amongst the Checks over it. Beattie clearly considered that she was being passed over and Sylvie Duval had not come out of the sulks since. Eva was the last person she would have chosen. Really the only person competent enough to run things in her absence was Sadie McIntyre. She sighed, wondering what kind of mess she would find the place in on her return. Well, no use thinking of that now. She was entitled to take winter leave and no one could say it wasn’t overdue.
First stop London, she planned. There she would stay over Christmas with her mother before flying to Melbourne for five weeks. It had been a tough and lonely year and it would be a relief to share some of the strains she had endured, as well as receiving her mother’s calm sane views about it all.