The Beach Book Bundle: 3 Novels for Summer Reading: Breathing Lessons, The Alphabet Sisters, Firefly Summer (139 page)

Chapter XVIII

“Wasn’t it odd that the Meaghers left so quickly?” Loretto said.

“Oh I don’t know, they got a chance of a place in Dublin, a small lock-up shop, and Patrick paid them a good price for the shop in Bridge Street. It was all for the best to go quickly. She’s never been the same since poor Frank died.”

Kate had congratulated herself several times on the amazing foresight she had had in telling Mrs. Meagher to hang on for a bit, something was bound to happen. And hadn’t she been right! Imagine Patrick O’Neill wanting a small place in the center of town. It had solved the Meaghers’ problems at a stroke.

Loretto was still musing. “She’ll have the divil of trouble with that strap of Teresa in Dublin. If she was able to run wild in Mountfern, imagine what she’ll get up to in Dublin.”

Kate didn’t agree. “She may have done all her running wild, she could be about to settle down for a bit now, have a quiet period for a change.”

Loretto looked at her in wonder. “Isn’t that extraordinary, Kate. Her mother said almost the very same thing to me herself.”

   “Would Dara be insulted if I offered her some material to have a dress made?” Rachel asked Kate.

“Insulted? She’d grab it out of your hands. But you can’t be giving them things. You’re too generous as it is.”

“No truly, I have lovely bits of material, really nice pieces of fabric. They’re samples, some of them are for drapes or wall hangings—furnishing fabrics. But they’re quite elegant enough for a skirt or a dress.”

“Well wouldn’t she love it!”

Kate was never without something in her hands these days—if it wasn’t the table napkins it was tray cloths. They were sitting companionably in the green room. The summer was almost with them, and the weather was warm enough for the two glass doors to be left wide open.

Carrie served tea on a trolley, another gift from Rachel; she said she had ordered some for the hotel. Kate hoped she was telling the truth; sometimes she thought that Rachel disguised her generosity by pretending it was some cast-off from the hotel.

“Am I imagining it or is Carrie thickening around the waist?” Kate whispered.

“You
are
imagining it.” Rachel pealed with laughter. “My goodness, what a suspicious mind you have. Perhaps Carrie and Jimbo just sit and talk when they’re out together.”

“Not very likely,” Kate said dismissively. “But you’re right, I mustn’t start fancying things.”

“Is anything worrying you? Anything apart from Carrie?”

“No.” It was not very convincing.

“I don’t mean to pry,” said Rachel.

“I’d tell you if it was sensible.” Kate sounded as if she were ashamed of herself.

“Worries are rarely sensible.” Rachel smiled.

“I’ll tell you. I worry a bit about Dara and Kerry. I get this feeling that Kerry is a bit … well, a bit dangerous.”

“I worry about Kerry too,” Rachel said unexpectedly. “And I think Kerry is very dangerous.”

The two women sat, heads close together, sewing forgotten, and sighed over the impossible situation. The more that Dara was warned against him the more attractive he would be to her. And if Kate were to put difficulties in his way about meeting her daughter, he would enjoy the challenge and come home more often still from his Donegal posting to move heaven and earth in pursuit of Dara.

Jacinta White told Dara that Mrs. Fine was the mistress of Mr. O’Neill. They had been lovers for years in America. Jacinta knew this on the highest authority. She said that Liam didn’t believe it because he didn’t really understand mistresses and lovers. But it was true.

Dara, who thought it was indeed true from the days when Grace had told her of their fears that Mrs. Fine might become their stepmother, denied it utterly.

“You’re full of drama, Jacinta,” she said, defending her own friend Grace from having a wicked father and defending her mother from having a wicked friend.

“And you’re full of airs, Dara, and you haven’t a hope with Kerry O’Neill.”

Jacinta flounced off in a bad humor.

“What’s wrong with Jacinta, why won’t she come with us anymore?” Grace’s eyes were big and innocent.

“Oh, Jacinta’s an eejit, she’s always taking notions over one thing or another.” Dara gave no explanations.

“She’s very jealous of you, of course,” Grace said.

“Of me?” Dara sounded like Maggie now.

“Yes, she likes Tommy and Tommy has time for nobody but you.”

“Oh that’s not true. Is it?” Dara was pleased.

“Michael tells me that Tommy writes your name all the time on his notebooks at school. Michael says he writes mine, but he says Dara is interleaved with all those celtic letters—you know, on the front of notebooks.”

“Heavens.” Dara wasn’t quite sure what to say. It was nice to be someone fêted on the cover of exercise books, as Grace herself was. But it was not Tommy Leonard that she wanted writing her name.

“I wish I was really really beautiful like you are, Grace,” Dara said suddenly.

Grace stared at her in amazement. “But you are
much
more beautiful than I am.” She seemed to be burningly sincere. “I’ve only got a round chocolate-box face, I look like that silly boy blowing bubbles in the picture up in the Grange. I have no looks, you are the one with the gorgeous face … Dara you
must
know that. Kerry was saying …”

“What was he saying?” Dara was eager.

“He was saying that,” Grace said.

“How did he say it, I mean what was it exactly …?”

“Just that.” Grace couldn’t see any need to dawdle on what Kerry, who was only her brother, said “And you look terrific when you have a suntan, Dara, you look great. I look as if I have a skin disease if I stay out in the sun.”

There was going to be no more about what Kerry had said and when he had said it. Dara hadn’t much pride, but she had too much pride to ask again.

   He was home the next weekend.

“Fair and square. Permission and everything.” He grinned at his father, and to Grace’s pleasure Father smiled back.

Things were definitely better these days.

“How do we spend Saturday?” Kerry asked his sister when Father had gone off to the hotel. Patrick O’Neill didn’t work office hours, he worked a great deal too many hours for Brian Doyle’s taste.

“Oh good, are you going to be around?”

“Well yes. I think so.”

“Michael and I are going fishing. I’ve gotten rather good at it lately.” Grace giggled a bit. “We cycle off for miles and find really quiet places.” She looked down and up again and caught Kerry’s eye.

He wasn’t smiling.

“You
are
sensible aren’t you, Grace?”

She pretended not to understand.

“Oh very. Anyway the places we go, the river isn’t dangerous. It’s narrow and shallow, usually.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Oh.”

“Father’s not going to look after you, as long as he has his folly …”

“Why do you call it that? You used to love Fernscourt.”

“Someone has to. You’re very young, Grace, it would be terrible if you made a silly mistake.”

“No, Kerry, I wouldn’t.”

“But it’s different for boys. Does Michael respect you, or does he take advantage of you?”

“We just kiss a bit. That’s all.” Grace looked down again.

“That had better be all, and don’t go to far-away places to kiss. Listen to me, Grace, I know what I’m talking about. Michael’s only a kid but he could make you do something … something foolish.”

“No, it’s not like that …” She wished the conversation would end.

Just then there was a ring at the door. Miss Hayes didn’t go immediately so Grace seized the opportunity.

It was Rachel Fine.

Kerry looked annoyed.

“I’m sorry, but Father has gone up to Fernscourt,” he said, barely politely, when Grace had ushered Mrs. Fine into the room.

“I’m very sure he has.” Rachel smiled pleasantly. “He was always an early worker, and all days of the week. No, I didn’t come to see your father, Kerry. I came to visit with Miss Hayes.”

Kerry smiled at her as if this were the way things should be. Rachel Fine was welcome in the lodge if she had only come to talk to the help.

   Olive Hayes had spoken once or twice before to Mrs. Fine—a very pleasant woman, she had always thought. A Jewess they said, and a lady friend of Mr. O’Neill, but there had never been any impropriety in this house and not in Loretto Quinn’s either. She was surprised to see her come into the kitchen.

“Patrick has told me how well you run this household for him, Miss Hayes, and perhaps I am speaking out of turn when I ask you if you have enough free time to make a few simple summer dresses.”

“For you, Mrs. Fine? I’d not be able to make anything good enough for you.”

Rachel smiled easily. “No, I won’t ask you to take on my complicated figure, Miss Hayes, you would have nightmares trying to get anything to hang straight on me. I meant for some of the girls, for Dara Ryan, Maggie Daly …”

“Make dresses for them …”

“Yes, I’ve been told that you’re the dressmaking genius of Mountfern …”

Rachel took out two lengths of silky material—one copper-colored, one in a clear aquamarine. They were beautiful fabrics.

Miss Hayes ran her hand lovingly under the folds. “Oh, these are too good altogether for children, Mrs. Fine.”

“Suppliers send me samples, Miss Hayes. There’s two and a half yards there in each of them, they’re no use to me and I was thinking that if you could make a dress each for the girls—”

She broke off. Grace was standing at the kitchen door.

“Aren’t they
gorgeous
,” she said in admiration.

Rachel was pleasant. “I have all these pieces, Grace, and I was asking Miss Hayes if I could persuade her to make dresses for Dara and Maggie. Miss Hayes is very gifted. She made a wedding dress last year that was the talk of the town, Loretto told me.”

Olive Hayes looked very pleased.

“I didn’t know that.” Grace was interested.

“Oh, I do a bit now and then in the afternoons.” Miss Hayes was as pleased as punch.

“So if you and I could come to an agreement about a fee, do you think …”

“It would be a pleasure, Mrs. Fine.”

Grace fingered the copper silk weave. “Who’s this for?”

“It’s for Maggie, it’s the exact color of her hair.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, it will look quite lovely on her. This is for Dara.”

“Do they know, or is it a surprise?” Grace had heard nothing about it.

“They know that I was coming to see Miss Hayes, and they’ve seen the fabric.”

“Heavens,” Grace said.

“I’ve plenty more, Grace, if you …”

“I didn’t mean to ask.”

“No, and I’m sure Miss Hayes …”

“I’d love to make something for Grace, but she has such expensive clothes already, I didn’t like to …”

None of them were finishing their sentences but there was already an easy friendship between the three.

Kerry could see this when he came out to see what was happening. And his handsome face frowned slightly.

   Sister Laura didn’t know that there was such an interest in clothes, but she did realize that there wasn’t sufficient interest in work. And she was disappointed that she couldn’t drum up any greater enthusiasm about these exchanges with little French girls. All the families would have to find was the fare, and Lord knew they were well able to find money for other things like drink and television sets.