‘It’s not coloured, I’ve always been a redhead.’ Katie lifted a hand to her head.
‘No, I would prefer not to …’ Her face was pulled into a prissy look which she directed towards the women.
‘My hair is clean, honest! It was washed two days ago,’ Katie pleaded.
‘No. I think it’s best to leave it,’ the owner added firmly.
Stunned and conscious of the glances of the middle-aged women, Katie went bright red and stood up and left. She felt totally humiliated. It wasn’t fair. She hadn’t got two heads. She wasn’t a criminal. Did they think she’d steal or break up their shops?
She stood outside, staring in at them.
‘Tinkers, they’re everywhere,’ she heard the owner joke.
How could it be? She stumbled back down the stairs. The sunlight outside made her squint. She tried two more places. One just shouted that they didn’t want the likes of her, and the last wouldn’t even open the door to her.
She felt sick to her heart as she stood at the bus stop. Certainly she couldn’t go home straight away. It began to rain. Tears slid down her face and rain soaked her hair. Wet and heavy, it hung around her as she hopped on the number 26 bus. Maybe Sally would be home. She skipped the stop for her own road and went on another, to Sally’s house. She rang the bell. Inside, a gang of children played on the couch.
‘Hiya, Katie, come on in. They’re driving me crazy. Mam and Dad are gone down to Wexford for the day to a funeral. Why is it always wet when I’ve to mind them?’
Katie followed her friend into the untidy, cramped kitchen.
‘Jeepers, Katie, you look awful. What’s wrong?’
Katie hung her head. She was ashamed to tell her friend what had happened.
‘I thought I was going to get my hair done,’ she said sadly.
Sally seemed puzzled. ‘Changed your mind?’
Katie shook her head. ‘Had it changed for me, more like.’ She began to pull at the wet ends of her hair. ‘I hate it, I hate it,’ she cried.
‘Your hair? But you’ve lovely hair, look at my old mop.’
‘No, it’s not my hair, it’s everything, just being different!’ Like floodgates bursting open, the whole story tumbled out. Sally was almost as upset as Katie and every time one of the younger ones stuck their head in the door she screamed ‘Out!’ at them.
‘Look, Katie, just say “Sod them”.’
‘Sod them,’ Katie muttered.
‘Go on, louder. SOD them!’
Within five minutes Sally had her laughing till the tears ran down her face. Then Sally got out her mother’s big kitchen scissors.
‘Would you like a snip, Madame?’ she asked prancing around the floor. She took a mirror down from over the sink and made Katie hold it.
‘Now keep her steady. Didn’t I tell you that if I didn’t become a film star my next choice of career would be a hairdresser? So you’ll have the privilege of being my first customer.’
Katie didn’t know whether she was serious or not, but within a few minutes had agreed to let Sally shampoo her hair and give it a trim.
She closed her eyes to stop the mountain of bubbles Sally had lathered up getting in her eyes and she kept them closed while the older girl dragged the comb through the thick jungle of hair. She dared not open them as she felt the scissors move across the edge of her hair. Her head began to feel lighter. She was half-afraid to look for fear of what she might see.
‘All finished,’ announced Sally.
Katie partially opened her closed eyes. Long wet strips of hair littered the kitchen floor. She looked up. Her hair no longer fanned out like a cape. It hung neatly in an almost straight line to the level of the breast bone. She shook her head and felt the new lightness as her hair swung freely from side to side.
‘Sally, it’s great!’
‘I’m not sure if it’s really straight, but I’ll see better when it’s dry.’
Just being with the other girl and sipping mug after mug of tea and talking about funny things that had happened on the road seemed to pass the time. After a short while Katie’s hair was dry. It fell softly around her face. She peered in the mirror. She looked older and maybe even wiser.
Sally was using the brush and pan to remove every trace of hair from the floor. Thirteen years of growth was flung into the kitchen bin.
Walking home from Sally’s, Katie felt more confident. She smiled at one or two people she passed and they even smiled back at her.
Mam was downstairs in the kitchen, folding a pile of clothes.
‘Well, what do you think?’
Mam didn’t look up for a minute. Then she ran her fingers softly over Katie’s head.
‘It suits you real well, pet. You’re growing up to be a fine girl. I’m right proud of you.’
‘I’ve still got the money,’ Katie declared.
Her mother frowned.
‘Nah, don’t worry about it, Mam. Sally ended up cutting it for me. I’ll explain later.’ It was such a relief to see Mam back on her feet.
Wait till she got back to school. Natalie wouldn’t be able to grab her so easily again.
Chapter 22
SAWDUST AND SHAVINGS
First class was home economics. Cookery! I might as well have stayed home, thought Katie. She had no white coat, but she tied her hair back.
There were nineteen other girls and four boys in the class. The large, tiled, home economics room was set up with six cookers and six sinks, large work tables and stacks of cookery equipment.
Everybody had a partner already, so she was on her own. But she knew she was a better cook than the lot of them put together. Mrs Kelly began to write recipes for basic brown bread and pancakes on the blackboard. The rest of the class were busy taking down the recipes.
‘Miss Connors, I suggest you write down the recipe like the others as you’ll need the ingredients next week. Today I will demonstrate,’ Miss Kelly told her.
Katie took up her pad and jotted them down reluctantly. When the teacher was busy showing them step-by-step what to do, Katie found herself day-dreaming.
A boy from fifth year stuck his head in the door. ‘Mrs Quinlan wants to see Kathleen Connors in her office.’ Having delivered the message, he disappeared straight away.
Every head turned to look at Katie. What had she done now? Gathering up her books she got off the stool and headed straight for the Principal’s office.
Mrs Quinlan was sitting at her desk reading a book and drinking a cup of coffee.
‘Come in, come in and sit down, Katie.’
Katie was wary.
‘I just wanted to find out why you stayed out an extra week over the suspension period.’
Katie just shrugged. Family problems were not any of this woman’s business.
‘I’m not poking my nose in, Katie, I do care and I am concerned about you …’ she trailed off.
‘My Mam was sick and had to go to hospital. I had to mind the rest of them,’ she stated.
The Principal put down her book. ‘It’s important not to miss school. Pupils who are absent for whatever reason tend to fall behind. They end up putting a lot of pressure on themselves and, let’s face it, there are enough pressures on you without loading on more.’
‘I’m sorry, but Mam needed me.’
Mrs Quinlan just nodded. ‘Now you’re back I hope you will settle back to the school routine. You know I’m here if you need me.’ Katie sensed that the woman was sincere. She guided Katie to the door.
‘Now back to class!’
Katie looked at the clock, there were about fifteen minutes of home economics left. She went the long way round to the classroom, ambling along, taking her time. It was unusual not to have everyone else bashing into her. She was about to pass an open door when she spotted a few of the boys from her class engrossed in work inside.
It was the woodwork room, and she could hear the whirr of a saw. She stood watching for a few minutes. The teacher was going from bench to bench, and
a scatter of woodshavings littered the floor. They were all so absorbed, no one seemed to notice her.
Totally out of impulse she turned back the way she had come and soon found herself outside the Principal’s door again.
‘Come in!’ Mrs Quinlan called. ‘Did you forget something, Kathleen?’
‘No, it’ s not that, Mrs Quinlan. I was wondering, can I change subjects?’
‘When?’
‘Today. Now!’ she blurted out.
‘But you have home economics now. I really don’t think it would be possible for you to join the French class at this late stage. Some of the students have done two years of French in primary school before coming on here, you’d just be lost.’
‘No, Mrs Quinlan, I’m not interested in French. I want to change to woodwork,’ she pleaded.
The surprised woman took out a file from her drawer. ‘Woodwork, well, it’s not exactly what one expects of a girl. Don’t you think that studying home economics and learning about nutrition and how to budget and plan meals and so on would be far more beneficial to you and your family?’
‘We do some of that in science, Mrs Quinlan. It’s cooking! I like cooking but I get enough of it at home. No, I fancy the woodwork, it looks interesting. That is, if they’ll have me.’
‘Well!’ Mrs Quinlan laughed softly to herself. ‘I suppose there’s no reason to stop you changing. I’ll talk to both teachers at lunchbreak.’
Katie held her head high as she left the Principal’s office. Her eyes were dancing in her head when she flounced into class and got back to her place. They were all mad with curiosity to see if she’d got into more trouble.
* * *
She said nothing, but a week later she headed for the woodwork room instead of the home economics class.
‘Go and sit with your partners,’ Mr McKeown instructed them as they filed into class.
Partners again! Katie couldn’t believe it. She scanned the room. There were only two girls in the group and they were sitting together at the back of the class. One was Brona Dowling. She winked over at Katie.
There was only one boy sitting on his own. His name was Rory. She had heard the others jeer him sometimes and Natalie always said he was a bit simple. Katie went and sat opposite him at the large woodwork desk. There was a little locker full of tools beside her. Everyone else seemed to know what they were doing and a gentle hum of conversation filtered around the room as they started work.
Rory spread a long plank of wood across his side and began to plane it. He whistled as he worked. She hoped the teacher would remember her and come over.
While she waited she looked around the room. It was large and airy and long windows reached to the floor. There were two huge wooden cupboards at the very back, with wooden shapes stacked on top of them. Diagrams were sketched out on the blackboard. On one wall hung a poster. Katie went over to look at it. It showed different kinds of trees from all over Ireland. She recognised every one of them. They had camped in woods, forests and meadows, by the sides of roads, in the grounds of big old houses – looking at this poster was like seeing a lot of old friends. Under each tree was a cross-section showing its wood-grain.
‘Interested in wood, are you?’ Katie spun around. Mr McKeown had come up behind her. She nodded.
‘Well, I’m always glad to get more pupils interested in craftwork.’ The teacher looked closely at her.
‘I always loved trees. I used to hide in them when I was little. My Da used to have to send my big brother Tom to search for me. No matter where we were I’d find a tree.’
‘You moved from place to place then?’ He smiled.
‘Yes, sir. I’m a traveller. Life on the road was hard, but, well, it was grand.’
‘Never boring, I’d say. Now, Katie, a simple shape to cut out is a good start. The rules of this room are that no one touches that saw,’ he pointed to a large circular saw fixed in the middle of the room, ‘that is totally off-limits. I’ll show you how to use the small fret-saws – and watch carefully. I don’t want people chopping off fingers, I have no intention of spending my time putting on bandages and plasters.’
Katie had already noticed the large white first-aid box with its red cross in the corner over the sink.
‘First off, I want you to leave your books outside.’ She ran out with the small pile of books.
When Katie went back in he was standing at a noisy machine helping two boys to sharpen some tools. Sparks flew around them. When he’d finished he came back to her. ‘Now, little lady, let’s get you started.’
He arrived over with a rectangular piece of wood ‘Now I want you to square this off.’ He passed her a piece of chalk and a large wooden T-square and left her to it. She couldn’t decide what size square to make and had to keep rubbing out the chalk with spittle.
‘Do it fairly big, it’s much easier,’ Rory advised her across the desk they shared. ‘We did them and then when they were sanded and polished we put our initial on them. Painted it on. It’s only an exercise. Next week or so you’ll make a rabbit.’
‘What are you making?’
‘It’s a tray, a wooden tray for my mother. Later on I’m going to make a toybox for my brother Richard and if I’m able, a kind of doll’s house for my two sisters. That’ll be all the Christmas presents taken care of.’
Katie stared at him. This boy was very different from the Rory who stumbled around the school and whom the teachers gave out to constantly for not doing his work. He must have read her mind because he blushed. ‘Woodwork’s my best subject.’
Katie settled herself and soon became engrossed. She drew a ‘K’ on the wood too which helped dictate the size. Mr McKeown showed her how to use the small fret-saw. It was pretty difficult and the lines were jagged when she’d finished.
‘Now, sandpaper all the edges until they’re smooth.’
She loved the smell in this room. The scent of woodshavings and glue blended with the sweet smell of different sorts of timber. She just couldn’t believe it when the teacher told them to tidy up as the bell would go in ten minutes. Katie was given one of the brushes and swept one half of the room. All the sawdust and shavings were put in a big bin. Then each of them had to make sure that every tool listed inside the door of the workbench lockers had been put back. As she walked out of class and Mr McKeown locked the door after them she knew she could hardly wait until Thursday and their next lesson.
Chapter 23
BACK ON THE ROAD
November days – always so dull and damp. Like a fog, winter had seeped in. By mid-afternoon the soft, hazy sun would disappear. The few trees in Ashfield estate had lost their leaves and stood spindly and bare, forming scary shadows.
‘Come on, Duffy, let’s go for a walk,’ Katie said one Saturday. The dog ran on ahead, snuffling amongst the wet, mouldy leaves.
Katie headed up towards Ashfield Grove. She’d call on Sally. They hadn’t seen each other for ages. Duffy was good company and wandered along beside her.
As soon as she turned the corner she saw that the ramshackle caravan was gone from Sally’s garden and the glass on the large bedroom window was cracked. The house looked empty, abandoned.
She rang the doorbell again and again. No one answered.
‘You’re wasting your time, love,’ the old man from across the street shouted at her, ‘they’ve gone!’
‘All of them?’ Katie couldn’t believe it.
‘Yeah, just upped and left. Didn’t even bother to lock the house up properly and the vandals got at it. Those type of people have no sense of responsibility, don’t care about their neighbours.’
Katie stared at him and then back at the house.
She felt guilty. She shouldn’t have waited such a long time before visiting Sally. She had been so caught up with school and homework and the family and herself. Now Sally was gone, back on the road and hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye.
‘Sally’s gone, Mam,’ she announced as soon as she got home. ‘The whole fam
ily left. They must be gone back on the road.’
Mam was busy buttering bread.
‘I’m not surprised, love.’
‘Did you know? Why didn’t you tell me? I never even said goodbye.’
‘It was just a feeling. Mary Ward told me often enough that they were thinking of going back on the road.’
‘More power to them, that’s what I say,’ stated her father, coming in the back door and leaving his muddy wellington boots on the doorstep. ‘Getting out of that house is probably the best thing Paddy Ward ever did.’
‘It’s winter, Ned, there’s not much sense going back on the road in the middle of the cold and wet.’
Katie stared at her parents. Somehow there had been a subtle shift in the conversation and she wasn’t sure anymore who Da was talking about.
* * *
The darkness would envelop the house and sometimes it seemed as if the four walls of the house and the roof were a prison cell built to keep them in. Da would pace up and down before disappearing off into the night for a hour or two. During the day he would drive off to the local dump or any place which would be a source of scrap – he seemed to find it impossible to stay in the house for any length of time.
The minute they all came home from school the television was switched on and it was not turned off until bedtime. Strange voices and strange people held court in the middle of their living-room night after night. Katie found it hard to manage all the homework she had to do as there was only one table in the house, the kitchen table. She cleared the clutter off it and tried to spread out her books. Brian would take another corner. Sometimes she was just about to start when the tea would be ready and everything would have to be packed away in the bag until the last cup and plate had been washed and Hannah and herself had tidied everything away.
Sometimes Hannah would sit quietly looking at her books. ‘You’re real clever, Katie, I wish I was like you.’ She still had trouble reading and Katie would often find herself reading a story or explaining some history or geography to her little sister.
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