Jean Grainger Box Set: So Much Owed, Shadow of a Century, Under Heaven's Shining Stars

by Jean Grainger

  ‘Well, all the more reason to spend a few shillings on yourself so. Sure you have three months wages got now, and only a few toffees to show for it. You never know, we might meet a young man on our travels!’ Eileen giggled.

  Mary suddenly got serious, remembering the dire warnings of the nuns not to fall into the same trap as her mother. She would have to be very careful to avoid all temptation for fear she’d go down the same sorry road.

  ‘There won’t be men there will there? I...’ she couldn’t articulate to Eileen her fears.

  Her new friend understood her insecurities and instead of teasing her, soothed her. ‘Ah look Mary, we’ll have a lovely day out the two of us. We’ll walk on the pier and have tea and ride on the tram. ’Twill be great altogether. And my brother Rory, he works at the hotel, did I tell you that? Anyway he does, and he’ll escort us so we’ll be quite safe. Nobody would look sideways at us with Rory around.’

  The pride with which Eileen spoke of her brother gave Mary a little pang of envy. She would have loved a brother or a sister, anyone really, to call family. Eileen was forever telling her about her family back in Foynes, County Limerick, and her Mam and Daddy and how much she missed them all. She was getting one whole week of holidays in the summer and was going to visit them, and she was so excited already and planning little gifts for them all. She sent most of her wages home to help the family, and her mother was always saying she should keep a bit more for herself. But Eileen knew how hard it was to keep the family going, so she didn’t mind. Mary had nobody to send her money to. She had thought that maybe she should have sent some back to the convent, but Eileen soon told her that she would be mad to do such a thing. Sure weren’t the nuns living in the lap of luxury, and they wouldn’t pass it on to the children anyway, so why would she be working hard to make life even easier for them.

  The work wasn’t hard, not compared to the convent. She rose early and got the fire started, and the bread in the oven. She served Mr Grant his breakfast in the dining room, and that was the only really bad bit of the day. From the very first morning, he was always finding reasons for her to be near him and never lost an opportunity to touch her. She hated being alone with him, but she would never say anything in case it meant the end of her job. Eileen warned her to give him a wide berth, but it was easier said than done. He wasn’t around much during the day, thankfully, and when he left for work at his factory, then she made up the mistress’s breakfast tray and brought it up to her.

  She loved that time the best, helping Mrs Grant to get ready. The mistress was the most beautiful woman Mary had ever seen. Mary loved the way her wavy chestnut hair flowed down her back in the mornings, and was getting quite good at pinning it up for her each day as she had been shown. She watched Mrs Grant in the mirror as she applied powders and creams to her flawless porcelain complexion while Mary laid out her outfit for the day. Though she was undoubtedly much older than Mary, and she had the figure of a girl. Though she looked every inch the lady, she was feisty and spirited and very opinionated. She had such beautiful things, jewellery, hats and so many shoes. She had dresses and costumes and coats in every colour and style imaginable, and yet she went shopping at least once a week. She often gave Mary little things, gloves or a scarf when she tired of them, but while they were beautiful, Mary never wore them. She would have felt a fraud going around Dublin on her half day done up like a lady.

  Chapter 10

  The girls giggled as they bought a bag of sweets for the journey. It was a cold breezy November day but the sky was clear and the sun shone brightly. Mary found it hard to resist looking at herself in the shop windows as she hurried to Nelson’s Pillar to catch the tram to Kingstown. How Sister Benedict would have given out about the sin of pride, but she had never owned anything so pretty. The new dress Eileen had picked out for her really was the nicest thing Mary had ever seen. It was in the sale in Clery's and cost three shillings and sixpence. It was ankle length and cornflower blue with long sleeves and a pale blue collar. A row of pearl buttons went down the front. Mrs Grant had demanded to see her modelling it when she told her that she had been shopping.

  Mary remembered the acute embarrassment she felt going upstairs dressed like a lady rather than a maid, but even the dour Mrs Kearns seemed impressed as they both mounted the stairs to Mrs Grant’s sitting room.

  ‘Oh Mary!’ Mrs Grant exclaimed, ‘you look absolutely lovely, my dear. Doesn’t she, Mrs Kearns?’

  ‘She does indeed, Ma’am,’ Mrs Kearns replied sincerely.

  ‘Just stay there now, I have just the thing!’ Mrs Grant went to her adjoining dressing room and opened her enormous closet. She ran her fingers over the rows of beautifully pressed coats and dresses. Withdrawing a cream and blue ankle length coat and cream wide brimmed hat with a silk forget-me-not stitched to the band, she announced, ‘This never suited me, but it will be simply beautiful on you, Mary. Your waist is so tiny and it cinches in perfectly. Here, let’s try it on...’

  ‘B..b..but, Ma’am, I couldn’t...’ Mary was nonplussed.

  ‘Nonsense, of course you can. I never wear it and Mrs Kearns tells me you are going to have tea at the Royal Marine with your friend to celebrate your birthday. Consider it a birthday present from Mr Grant and myself.’

  Mary allowed herself to be dressed and when she stood in front of Mrs Grant’s mirror she didn’t recognise herself.

  ‘You really are very pretty, Mary. Now off you go and enjoy your day. Happy birthday, my dear.’

  Mary thanked her employer and went back down to the kitchen. It felt strange to be going for a full day out, for usually her life revolved around Mrs Kearns and the kitchen. Mary felt such affection for the old housekeeper and confided everything to her. One night a few weeks ago, as they were enjoying their nightly cocoa and currant bread, the old housekeeper had asked about Mary’s mother and she’d told her the truth. Mrs Kearns told her that night that life was harder for women than men in lots of ways, and that she was a good girl to have turned out so well. She also told Mary that her only daughter would have been around Mary’s age if she’d lived, but TB took her when she was just eleven years old. Her husband had died years earlier and so she too was alone. She wasn’t given to softness, but there was a kindness to Mrs Kearns that her stoic exterior belied.

  As Mary was leaving to meet Eileen, Mrs Kearns took a little bag out of her skirts. ‘This is for you. For your birthday.’ The old woman proffered the paper bag.

  ‘But it’s not really my birthday and anyway you don’t have to get me anything...’ Mary was flustered.

  ‘Yerra ’tis only something small.’

  Mary reached into the bag and pulled out a tiny silver medal on a chain.

  ‘Tis St Anne, the mother of Our Lady. She’s the patron saint of mothers. Wherever your poor mother is, I’m sure she thinks of you often. Now, go on let you, or that other one will be in here on top of me with her giggling.’ Despite her complaining, Mary knew that Mrs Kearns liked Eileen and was happy for her to call for a cup of tea in the evenings when she had finished seeing to Mrs Carmody.

  Tears stung Mary’s eyes. Mrs Kearns must have guessed how much not having a family of her own gnawed away at her, and that she had thought of somebody giving her something so lovely was overwhelming. No-one had ever given her a present before and here were these people who were no blood relations at all showing her such kindness.

  ‘Thank you Mrs Kearns. I’ll treasure it.’

  ‘Get out now, will you? I’ve to mop this floor and you’re in the middle of the way!’ And she shooed her out the door, trying to hide her pleasure in Mary’s gratitude.

  The two girls sat side by side on the tram. A man stood beside them as the tram filled up. He kept looking at them and Eileen nudged Mary. Mary wished he would look somewhere else and stared out the window. He smiled at her reflection and she averted her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief when he got off the tram.

  ‘I can see I’m going to fade
beside you. The lads won’t look twice at me with you here.’ Eileen was mock despondent as they walked into the freshening breeze.

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ Mary replied, embarrassed. She hated it when men looked at her. She was sure it was because she always looked so awkward and out of place.

  ‘I’m only joking you.’ Eileen knew how her friend felt about male attention but she also knew that Mary was going to find it unavoidable. She was so striking looking with her copper hair and those dark green eyes. Her skin was the colour of alabaster from a lifetime spent indoors working, where Eileen’s own was tanned thanks to a childhood outside helping on the family farm. She had a delicate frame which Eileen was always telling her she envied, instead of her own fine strong physique. ‘Beef to the heel like a Mullingar heifer, that’s me!’ she always joked.

  Mary knew that for all her friend’s bemoaning of her own shortcomings, she had no shortage of admirers. All the delivery boys and even a few of the men that waited outside of mass every Sunday tried to charm Eileen, but while she joked with them in a way Mary never could, she never let it go any further than friendly chat. Eileen had told her that she used to get letters from a friend of her brother’s back in Limerick called Teddy, and while there wasn’t a romance, she thought he was very nice. Mary suspected that Eileen had feelings for this Teddy Lane, but she had come to Dublin to work and to help her family out and not to be daydreaming about boys.

  The Royal Marine Hotel really took Mary’s breath away. She looked at the beautiful facade overlooking the harbour and thought it was the most beautiful building she had ever seen in her life. She felt a surge of anxiety when she saw the liveried doorman helping a lady down the steps to a waiting hansom cab as she emerged into the cold afternoon. Surely he wasn’t going to allow them in to such a fancy place?

  As the cab drew away from the kerb at the front of the hotel, Eileen squeezed her arm in glee. Any worries Mary had were dismissed as Eileen dragged her to the door.

  Inside the hotel, crystal chandeliers hung from the ornate ceiling, and in front of them was a magnificent marble staircase carpeted in red and gold. The silk covered walls were adorned with paintings, seascapes and portraits, and the lobby hummed with activity. Eileen led her into the large dining room to the left of the foyer, and immediately they were approached by a splendidly dressed waiter.

  ‘A table for two, ladies?’ he asked in plumy tones. Only the slightest raising of his eyebrow gave the indication he thought they may have been out of their depth. Eileen soon showed him how wrong he was. Using an accent Mary had never heard before, she was astonished to hear her friend address him,

  ‘Yes please, by the window if possible. We are celebrating my friend’s birthday today.’

  Mary got the distinct impression that he would have preferred they stay at the back of the room, near the staff entrance, but Eileen was having none of that. As he held the seats out for them at a table in the beautiful bay window, he handed them menus.

  ‘Oh there’s no need for menus. We’ll have afternoon tea for two please.’ She smiled sweetly and the man nodded curtly.

  ‘Eileen!’ Mary whispered. ‘Are you sure we should be in here? I don’t think they want the likes of us. And anyway how much is this going to cost? Have we enough money?’ Mary was starting to panic.

  ‘Of course we have, and anyway it’s my treat for your birthday. I’ve had it here once before. When Mam came up to Dublin last year to see a doctor, Rory arranged with the manager for us to have our tea here. Oh wait till you see what they give you, Mary, tiny sandwiches and scones with jam and cream and even little sweets and it all comes out on a big tiered tray. ’Tis lovely so 'tis.’

  The view of the sea fascinated Mary. She had never seen the sea until she came to Dublin, and the white horses on the waves as the sea pounded the pier was mesmerising.

  Just as Eileen promised it would be, the tea was delicious. The sandwiches were so delicate with the crusts cut off the bread, and the scones melted in the mouth. Mary felt like royalty.

  ‘Thank you so much for today, Eileen. This has been the best day of my life. Honest to God, I never imagined places like this even existed. And the idea that someone like me would be sitting here, in this gorgeous dress and coat, with a friend like you...’ Mary’s voice cracked with emotion.

  ‘Ah here, will you stop it? Sure ’tis a great treat for me too, and I think you’re well overdue a bit of joy in your life. Life down there in the convent wasn’t much fun, was it?’

  Eileen never pried into Mary’s past, knowing how her origins embarrassed her, but today Mary didn’t mind talking about it. Tipperary and the convent seemed so long ago.

  ‘Twasn’t that bad. Some of the nuns were nice. I knew no other life anyway so it didn’t seem that desperate, but compared to my life now, well, now it’s just lovely. The thing I missed most was having someone of my own, you know, a brother or sister or a friend even. We weren’t really supposed to make friends, you see. If they saw you getting friendly with someone, then you’d be moved away from her. They didn’t want us talking in case we found out anything about ourselves or each other, I suppose. Sometimes, I used to look after the really small ones, but then they were usually adopted. Every few months someone would come, in a big car. One time I remember, Americans I think they were, came and took a few little ones away with them. I don’t know where they ended up though.’

  Eileen’s voice was kind, ‘Did you never want to be adopted?’

  Mary smiled, ‘I used to dream about it but nobody ever wanted me. Others like me got adopted, so maybe it was that nobody wanted a child that looked like me when I was little, and once you grow up a bit, then there’s no chance. People want babies, you see, so they can pass them off as their own, I suppose. The nuns said they even had to baptise me themselves because my mother probably didn’t do it. One of the nuns let slip one time that my mother kicked up a terrible fuss and didn’t want me adopted, but maybe she just said that to make me feel better. I can’t imagine that my mother’s feelings on the subject would have held much sway with the nuns anyway. When I was small, I used to dream that she’d come back for me some day and we’d go off together and live somewhere far away, maybe even in America.’ She laughed at her own foolishness.

  ‘Stranger things have happened, God knows. I bet that nun was telling the truth, that your Mam fought to keep you, but a girl on her own with no husband to give the baby a name wouldn’t have any choices.’ Eileen was ever the optimist. ‘I’m sure she loved you, but it would just have been impossible. I hope she had a good life and I bet she often thinks of you. Maybe she got married and now has other children. Imagine, you might really have brothers or sisters but you don’t know it. And sure won’t you have your own family some day? When you meet your husband and have your own babies?’

  Mary looked at her friend perplexed. It had never really occurred to her that one day she might marry. Life in the convent was monotonously predictable every day, and now that she was here, in Dublin, she was living a life she never imagined was possible. The idea of leaving Mrs Grant’s house and Mrs Kearns and Eileen to go and live with some man never even entered her head.

  ‘The look on your face, girl, you’d swear I suggested you went away with the fairies!’ Eileen giggled. ‘That’s what happens you know, eventually to us all. We get married and have babies. I know you’re only young, but some lad will catch your eye some day, mark my words.’

  Mary laughed at her friend. ‘Well, there isn’t exactly a hundred young men begging for my hand in marriage so far, is there? And even if there was, I wouldn’t have a clue what to say to them, so it’s just as well that despite all my finery I’m not being pursued like you think.’

  She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘Anyway, sure a decent boy from a nice God fearing family wouldn’t want anything to do with me, me with no one nor nothing to my name. He could hardly bring me home to his mother out of an orphanage. No, if I can stay in Grants’ for
ever, that will do me.’

  They chatted on and on through the afternoon, with Eileen asking for top-up of tea when it ran out. Eventually they left the hotel and were walking along the pier admiring the huge ship docked at the quay when they heard a voice calling Eileen.

  ‘Ye’re like a pair of whippets the two of ye. I’m trying to catch up to ye for the last ten minutes!’

  The hotel doorman was panting and resting his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath.

  ‘Well, you must be eating too many leftovers from the kitchen so,’ Eileen joked. ‘There was a time when you could outrun everyone in Foynes and now look at you, puffing and spluttering like an auld man!’

  The man recovered and Mary noticed how familiar he looked. His black hair, though cut quite short, was curly and his skin was tanned, but it was his vivid blue eyes that caught her attention. His whole face seemed to dance with what the nuns called divilment. He didn’t look like a man who took anything too seriously. Mary imagined he must be very popular with the girls as a group of them passed, casting admiring glances in his direction. He seemed oblivious though, and was smiling broadly at Eileen.

  ‘Enough of your cheek! Now introduce me properly. I don’t know what kind of rearing she had at all!’ He winked at Mary as he stood up to his full height, towering over her.

  ‘Mary Doyle, let me introduce my brother Rory O’Dwyer. Rory, this is my best friend Mary Doyle, all the way from County Tipperary and up here in the big city making a name for herself.’

  Mary coloured with pleasure, no one had ever called her a friend before, let alone a best friend. Rory looked exactly like Eileen, only a male version. When Eileen said her brother worked at the hotel, Mary thought she meant in the cellar or washing pots or something, not the doorman with his beautiful uniform. In all their chatter, she never mentioned what exactly he did there. Mary was amazed at how similar they looked, both handsome and quite exotic looking with their tanned skin and dark hair.