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Comfort Me With Apples

Page 33

by Comfort Me


  ‘It’ll be a lot of work for you, Julia, so many for dinner,’ Anna said but Julia replied that she was looking forward to it.

  ‘Isn’t that the best part of Christmas?’ she said. ‘Miss O’Neill and myself think it’s grand.’

  Without discussion James moved his wardrobe and hairbrushes into Anna’s room and locked the door to his own room before the family arrived on Christmas Day. The ladies were taken upstairs to leave their coats on the bed, then Anna left them to visit the bathroom while she went down to help Julia. Mrs Furlong immediately opened James’s wardrobe and seemed disappointed to see the suits hanging there and the shirts in neat piles on the shelves at the sides.

  ‘What are you doing, Adelaide?’ Clara said sharply, but she only giggled, and when Clara went to the bathroom she whispered to Dorrie, ‘I thought she might be using it for her own clothes.’ Before they went downstairs they discovered that the room next door was locked.

  Julia surpassed herself with the dinner and at the end of it Michael voiced the feelings of everyone when he said to her, ‘Sure that wasn’t just a dinner, Julia. That was an experience.’

  Afterwards, the three men went for a walk and the ladies rested in the drawing room. Dorrie and her mother lay on comfortable sofas, covered with rugs, and Clara sat dozing in a deep chair for a while, then wandered out to the kitchen where Anna and Julia were washing and wiping the mounds of dishes and Frances was putting them away.

  ‘I’ve been falling asleep in the chair,’ Clara said. ‘I couldn’t fall asleep in any chair in our house. Where on earth did you get that furniture, Anna?’

  ‘We got it very old and tattered from salerooms and I recovered the chairs in that chintz. They’re not fashionable but we like comfort.’ She laughed. ‘James thinks they came from London men’s clubs originally.’

  ‘Trust men to find comfort,’ Clara said. ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘No thanks, Aunt. We’re nearly finished,’ Anna said.

  Clara looked around the kitchen. ‘You’ve got a lovely big kitchen too,’ she said enviously. ‘In fact, it is a lovely house altogether.’

  Anna dried her hands on a roller towel. ‘Come and see my little room where I’ve got my sewing machine,’ she said. ‘This is what I like most about this house. The main rooms are lovely but there are all these little extra rooms, like the one we made into a bedroom for Frances.’

  ‘That’s not so little,’ Clara said. ‘She showed it to us last time I was here and I thought it was a fine, big room.’

  Anna turned down a short passage and opened the door to another room. ‘This is where I keep my bits and pieces,’ she said.

  The room was small but bright, with Anna’s sewing machine in the window and a long table along the other wall with a bolt of material on it. There was a chair and a table by the fireplace and gardening books and magazines were scattered about. There were also several unfinished pieces of embroidery and various papers and Anna said, laughing, ‘I don’t have to tidy anything away. Just shut the door on it and come back to it when I can.’

  Clara sighed. ‘I wish I had my own place. I should never have come to live with your mother, Anna, but it seemed the best solution at the time for my poor brother.’

  ‘But you’re speaking to each other again now, aren’t you?’ Anna said.

  Clara replied grimly, ‘We had to when we hadn’t got you as a go-between but I haven’t changed my mind about her. I’m sorry to see Dorrie seems to be going the same way. Playing the invalid.’

  ‘She has been genuinely ill, Aunt,’Anna said. ‘I’m sure she’ll get over it and be back to her old self soon.’

  She showed her aunt a butler’s pantry, which she used for her gardening impedimenta, and a few storerooms then they went back to the drawing room, where Dorrie and her mother were awake, sitting together on one of the sofas, their heads close together.

  Anna began to make up the fire and Clara said, ‘I’ve been looking at Anna’s sewing room. She reupholstered this furniture. No wonder it’s so comfortable,’ but Mrs Furlong said nothing and Dorrie only smiled vaguely.

  The men returned a little later and they sat about chatting until Dorrie said, as though idly, ‘What’s that locked room next to Anna’s bedroom? I’m intrigued by locked rooms.’

  Anna sat frozen but James, who was more confident in his own home, said smoothly, ‘Sorry to disappoint you. No Chinamen or dead bodies there, only dust sheets and the decorators’ pots of paint and trestles.’ He smiled. ‘The room across from our bedroom is the guest room, where Isabel stayed, and the empty room next to that will be the next to be decorated and furnished as another bedroom.’

  ‘You’re wise to do things by degrees,’ the captain said and the talk turned to other matters, but Anna sat thinking, Dorrie knows about the separate rooms and so does Mama. She knew by the gloating expression on her mother’s face when Dorrie spoke.

  How do they know? Not from anyone in this house. She knew that Frances and Julia were completely loyal to her and James.

  It had been a relation of Frances, a young girl doing daily work for one of Mrs Furlong’s friends, who had innocently spoken of it. She had been saying how good Mr Hargreaves was to her Great-Aunt Frances, lighting a fire in her bedroom at Eastbourne Street every night. ‘I don’t think him or his wife have fires in their bedrooms but he does it for my Aunt Frances,’ she said.

  The woman had pounced on the information and relayed it to her friend as soon as possible. Mrs Furlong had then written about it to Dorrie but it was several years before Anna realised how the information was obtained.

  Now she showed no sign of her dismay as she organised another lavish meal. Afterwards, she played the piano in the drawing room and they all sang Christmas carols and hymns, several of which they had sung at church in the morning. Anna buried her shock and enjoyed the evening as much as anybody, particularly happy to see how much her father was enjoying himself.

  He had a fine baritone voice and was easily persuaded to follow the carols with some old favourites like ‘Greensleeves’ and some popular ballads from musical comedies.

  By the time the thirsty work of singing was over everyone gladly welcomed the punch James had made, what he called ‘a stirrup cup,’ before hansom cabs bore the party home.

  When they had gone Anna said quietly, ‘You did that very well about the locked room, James. Mama knew as well but I can’t imagine how.’ She felt unable to even speak Dorrie’s name.

  ‘Perhaps it was just curiosity about a locked room. Perhaps we read too much into it,’ James said.

  ‘Perhaps,’ Anna said but they both knew that it was not.

  As they were to spend Boxing Day at Westbourne Street they had told Frances and Julia that they could do as they liked in the house. ‘You could both ask your friends and relations over and have your own Christmas party,’ Anna had said. ‘Christmas Day will be all hard work for you.’

  There was little left of the goose and pork after the two meals on Christmas Day but Anna had ordered another large leg of pork and there was a boiled ham which she urged Julia to use.

  As always, there were plenty of vegetables and as Julia had made several Christmas puddings and cakes she decided to have a Christmas dinner for their guests.

  ‘They’ll all fit round the kitchen table and we can add another little table to make it longer if need be,’ said Frances.

  Julia had asked the friends she had stayed with in Soho Street and the two sisters of the man she had intended to marry. ‘They were very good. Only concerned about me in the midst of their own grief at Matthew’s sudden death,’ she said.

  ‘You never speak about it but it must have been a terrible blow to you, Julia,’ Anna said. ‘To come all this way to marry, then to be told he’s died.’

  ‘I didn’t really know him all that well,’ Julia said frankly, ‘and he was a lot older than me. It was my da and him that arranged it and I always did what my da said.’ She smiled. ‘Sure I wouldn’t now. I’ve
taken charge of meself, me own life, since I came here.’

  ‘I know exactly how you feel,’ Anna told her.

  Frances invited some of her relations, including her brother and his wife. ‘It’s Christmas, after all,’ she said piously but Anna and Julia knew that there was little goodwill in the invitation, although they hid their smiles and gravely agreed with Frances.

  ‘Is it all right if Eamonn brings his fiddle?’ Julia asked and Anna replied, ‘Of course. Do as you like. Use any food you want, Julia. This is your home as well as ours.’

  Their guests were loud in their admiration of the dinner cooked by Julia and the excellence of their employers. Eamonn brought his fiddle and his wife, Annie, the box accordion which she played and they had a few dances in the kitchen with the table pushed back, then a sing-song in Frances’s room.

  ‘Thanks be to God, Julia, after the unhappy start in Liverpool sure ye’ve found yourself a good home here,’ Eamonn said, ‘and Miss O’Neill to look after you as well.’

  ‘It’s the boot on the other foot,’ Frances declared. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without Julia. And Mr Hargreaves. I think God broke the mould when He made him and she’s as good.’

  ‘There’s nothing like working in a happy home,’ Annie said. ‘When I was a young girl just over from Cork I was in a terrible place. The whole family was fighting and rowing the whole time. I cried myself to sleep many a time, listening to them.’

  When their guests had gone, Frances and Julia decided that it was the happiest day they could ever remember. ‘The dancing,’ Frances said. ‘I tell you, Julia, I was that happy I could have danced a four-hand reel myself, twisted legs and all.’

  ‘It was grand,’ Julia sighed. ‘Sure I’ll remember it all my life.’

  They both knew that for Frances the chief joy had been watching her sister-in-law’s face as Frances demonstrated how comfortable and highly regarded she was, but Julia felt she was entitled to gloat over the woman, after hearing how she had been treated by her.

  Meanwhile, Anna and James were enjoying the day in Westbourne Street. Everyone was languid after all the excitement of Christmas and only simple meals were required. ‘Our stomachs need a rest after yesterday,’ Clara declared, and although Mrs Furlong evidently considered the remark coarse, everyone else agreed with Clara.

  In the late afternoon Jim Deagan and Norah came to ask if they could borrow Anna and Dorrie for half an hour. ‘All the family are gathered next door and Winnie and Gerald have arrived with Susan,’ said Jim.

  ‘Ask Winnie to bring the baby in here,’ Clara said. ‘We’d all like to see her.’

  Jim went back next door and Norah said quietly to Dorrie, ‘It won’t upset you, love, seeing the baby?’

  ‘No, I’d love to see her,’ Dorrie said, but her eyes filled with tears as Norah turned away. Michael, ever watchful, came beside Dorrie, but she whispered, ‘I’m all right. It’s just – I’d forgotten how nice people are.’

  Jim Deagan came back with Winnie and Gerald and the one-year-old Susan. She was a friendly child, smiling at everyone as she was passed around.

  ‘She’s just taken her first steps,’ Gerald said proudly. ‘Three clear steps from Winnie’s knee to Maggie’s. See if she’ll do it again, Win.’

  Winnie shook her head. ‘I think we frightened her a bit. We were all so excited because we didn’t expect it. It might be a while before she does it again, Ger.’

  Anna was amused to see the timid Winnie now so firmly in control and later Winnie confided in her that she was expecting another child in August. ‘Gerald would like a boy, but I told him, I just want a healthy child, girl or boy.’

  Dorrie, who always responded to an audience, was in sparkling form and the baby seemed fascinated by her, gazing into her face.

  ‘Pity she’s a girl. You could count another admirer, Dorrie,’ Jim Deagan said, laughing but Anna glanced at James who seemed as fascinated as the baby.

  ‘It’s strange, Susan has Winnie’s features and colouring, but she’s got a look of your ma,’ she said and Clara agreed.

  ‘I was just thinking that, Anna. The way she holds her head like Mrs Deagan did.’

  ‘We often say that, don’t we, Win?’ Gerald said eagerly. ‘And she’s like Ma in other ways too. Very determined for all she’s only a baby.’

  The baby, who was in Clara’s arms, turned her head and looked at him and Winnie exclaimed, ‘There! You see? It gives me a shock sometimes but if she grows up like Ma we’ll be well blessed.’

  Anna and Dorrie accompanied the Deagans back to their house and Anna was delighted to find that Kate was home for Christmas. They saw changes in each other but for the better, as Kate declared. She was successful and happy in her job and said it was obvious that Anna’s marriage was a success too. ‘Dorrie’s changed as well but I wouldn’t say that was for the better,’ she said.

  ‘I thought she was more like her old self today,’ Anna said in surprise. ‘She’s had a bad time, a miscarriage, but she’s recovering.’

  Kate spoke instead about baby Susan. ‘I think we’ve got another Susan Deagan in the making, just like Ma,’ she said, and Anna agreed.

  Soon after Anna and Dorrie returned, the O’Briens arrived to spend the evening with them. ‘Hogan’s taking the calls,’ the doctor announced, rubbing his hands, ‘So we can have a hand of cards without interruption if you like.’ He seemed to have forgotten his curiosity about Dorrie’s illness and she began to be sorry that she had complained of Michael ignoring her distress signals on the previous occasion as he watched her so closely.

  A telegram arrived from Michael’s mother, saying, ‘Longing to see you both. A hundred thousand welcomes and Happy Christmas. Mammy, Dad and Dermot.’

  ‘I hope we don’t have to disappoint her,’ Dorrie said in a faint voice. ‘I couldn’t stand a bad crossing.’

  ‘Nonsense. Smooth as a millpond,’ Dr O’Brien said robustly and Captain Furlong gave details about tides and winds which meant the Irish Sea could be crossed without fear of seasickness.

  Michael still looked anxious but Dorrie decided to accept the inevitable and was lively and charming. She scarcely spoke to James, however, and when they left bade Anna and her husband a cool and sisterly goodbye.

  Michael had said that they could only spend a week in Ireland. ‘We’ll cross tomorrow, Friday, but we’ll have to cross back on the following Friday’s night crossing. Then we’ll have to leave here first thing Sunday morning. I have to be back at work by Monday the sixth, no matter what. I can’t leave Eddy on his own any longer. He’s my partner,’ he explained.

  ‘You’ll have New Year at Ballinane, anyway,’ Mrs O’Brien said.

  ‘Yes, but I’m saying we may not see Anna and James again this visit. Dorrie will just need to sleep after the crossing, although we’ll have berths,’ Michael said.

  Anna was secretly pleased, although she and James made no comment on it and she was unsure how he felt. He had certainly seemed dazzled by Dorrie but there had been no repetition of her enthusiastic greeting.

  She felt that in many ways Dorrie had become a stranger but at times there were signs of the sister she had known and loved. She had certainly experienced unhappiness and Anna decided that she must make allowances for her and be thankful for her own happy life. It had been the happiest Christmas she could remember.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Isabel’s letters to Anna had been full of details about John Holland, the headmaster, so it was no surprise to Anna to hear just after Christmas that Isabel and John intended to become engaged on her birthday, 10 January.

  They planned to visit Liverpool the previous weekend to choose the ring and it was quickly arranged that they would spend the weekend with Anna and James. It was the weekend when Dorrie and Michael would arrive from Ireland, en route to London, but on the Saturday morning Michael came alone to see them.

  ‘We crossed last night, but it was very rough,’ he said. ‘It was terrible for Dorrie. She w
ent straight to bed when we got here and my uncle gave her a sleeping draught but I think she’d have slept anyway. She’s exhausted, so I don’t think she’ll be able to see you this time, Anna. We leave tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Never mind,’ Anna said. ‘I’ll see her again when she’ll be in better health, please God.’

  Michael was delighted to see Isabel and hear her news and they talked of old times. ‘Will you ever forget that bazaar?’ he said, laughing. ‘Young and foolish we were, without a care in the world.’

  His face darkened, but Anna was glancing at James, thinking that that was the day his hopes of Dorrie died, and it was Isabel who said cheerfully, ‘I suppose we have to have the bad times to make us appreciate the good times.’

  They all smiled and the moment passed but after Michael had gone Isabel said thoughtfully, ‘He’s not the happy-go-lucky lad he was, is he? Doesn’t seem that his life has been easy.’

  ‘I think it was a wrench for him to leave the army,’ Anna said. ‘But he seems to be doing well in civilian life.’

  ‘He’s doing very well,’ James said. ‘His business is really successful already and he has a good partner. They’ve both worked very hard and I think he’ll go far.’

  Anna and James both liked John. He was a pleasant young man, as dark as Isabel was fair, with an air of quiet authority which had made him a success as the village school headmaster. It was obvious that he and Isabel were deeply in love.

  Isabel and John went home on Sunday night but the visit had been a very happy one. Anna was delighted to see her old friend so happy and told her so when they were alone.

  ‘I didn’t think it was possible to feel like this about anyone,’ Isabel confessed, ‘and the lovely thing is, John says he feels the same about me.’

  ‘It will be a real “marriage of true minds,”’ Anna said.

  Isabel smiled. ‘We do think alike about everything,’ she said, ‘and he gets on so well with Mama and the boys. They all like him.’

 

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