Janette is below in WRTC doing music. I’ve sent you the Carrick Opinions covering the Miss Carrick. Did you see who they were? Susan, Finola, etc.! Actually I was persuaded not to enter ’cos the others wouldn’t have a chance and that wouldn’t be fair, would it?
I met Cooney. She said the Pre-Leaving is coming up soon. They’ve just been filling in CAOs and applications. I sure hope that none of ’em are as unsure as I am career-wise!
Anyway, I’d better shurrup as I have a pain in me hand (no doubt you’ve one in your head from the scribble!). I promise to write sooner (honest Injun!). Maw, Paw and Matty send you the best.
Bye for now.
Lots and lots of love,
Mary
PS Write soon yerself.
PPS I was stunned, flabbergasted, etc., that you advertised yourself as Anglaise. After all poor Hally said!
Letter 15 / The curse of Mills & Boon!
Trégunc
Friday, 10 February 1984
Dear Mary,
Thanks a million for your letter, which arrived today. I think I should warn you that the one I’ve just started is very likely going to have to wait until next week to be posted. And I’m really sorry that you’re going to have to go thru what I go thru every day, waiting for the postman, praying that he’ll have a letter for me, and feeling the rest of the day put out when he hasn’t! But I have a number of legitimate reasons, which I enumerate now, to put you out of your misery, and go into detail later.
Too much to do at the moment
Trip to Paris
Inadeptness at typing
And to go into rather more details on no. 3, I’m feeling rather pleased at myself at the moment as I’ve finished the first book on typing a week ahead of schedule. Book Two has mainly to do with perfecting the art, and learning how to type business doc. It’s very interesting, really, and I must admit I like it. Also, I think it gives all my readers’ (joke!) eyes a rest. I think my typing is more legible than my writing, which admittedly wouldn’t be hard! By the way, hi, Mrs Phelan, how’re you keeping?!
I think your reason for not keeping in touch with Sue is absolute rot. I recall the phone boxes in Carrick being awful, but surely you can find one in working order, somewhere in the town? Anyway, I’m going to be very mean and not tell you about the Omar Sharif look-a-like, who spent the whole night (!) pestering me, until I told him I was engaged to a cop. So, if you want to hear more about that, you’ll HAVE to phone Sue.
Despite the fact that I had a dream one night that six people asked me to give them courses in English (yippee! Eighteen quid), in reality, absolutely NOBODY has done so! To tell the truth, I’m very surprised. I mean there are quite a few secondary students in the area, and the people here are absolutely rolling in money. So, please, keep your fingers crossed for me and hopefully, but doubtfully, I’ll have at least one.
I’d say that you were fit to kill Annette. I hate that kind of letter, the type that tells you so much, or rather so little, and leaves you dying of suspense. Mind you, you did better than little old me who got nothing at all! I suppose the next time I hear of her will be a poster advertising a concert or something similar!
When I read of all the old classmates who have got engaged, I went up to the bathroom, had a good gawk at me mush, and counted all me grey hairs. But to tell the truth, I’ve absolutely NO intention of getting that serious at nineteen. But that’s not saying I’d say no to heading in that direction, if the occasion just sort of happened to arise. I’m hoping that it will this summer! And cows have wings and fly!
And this ties in with your current obsession for Mills & Boons! It’s an awful nuisance, isn’t it? This absolute compulsion to devour them without stopping! At Christmas, I read at least fifteen of them! Without exaggerating, I read most nights until about two o’clock. I mean, between that and everything else, it’s no wonder I was exhausted when I came back!
I agree with you in that our segregated school system has a lot to answer for. I think that I may have already mentioned this to Catherine, I mean, whoever came up with the idea of sticking boys in one building and girls in another must have been out of his tiny skull. I mean, it really can cause integration problems afterwards, can’t it? I didn’t realise boys discussed girls. Do they discuss us the way we discuss them, or is it, as you briefly mentioned, all the surface they talk about? Please pass on any related info.
Speaking of boys, in her last letter Sue said that this term she’s going to settle down to study. Would you believe it she’s still as stuck on M— and C— as ever. Remember, she first started on about M— in about first year, and that’s one hell of a long crush. As for C—, well, she’d have better luck trying to swim to the moon, in my esteemed opinion! You’ve met him, haven’t you? I met him a couple of times, but never saw anything in him, until the day I lost my bag in Clonmel. We went to his house, believing Gerard was there, but he wasn’t. Anyway, C— turned to go into the kitchen, and I don’t know if it was the light or what but he looked absolutely GORGEOUS! What would Sue do without a brother like Gerard to introduce her to all his good-looking friends?!
Since I started this letter at half one today, I’ve had a number of interruptions, which are, briefly, made a cup of coffee, dressed Thomas after his nap, separated the girls who were fighting, emptied the washing-machine, changed the tape (Simon and Garfunkel Greatest Hits) and finally brought Thomas and Delphine to the beach, where we met Annique and Anne. So, consequently, it is now almost seven in the evening. And we’ll be eating in about twenty minutes, so I won’t get much written now either!
If you’ve any eyes in your head you’ll have copped on that, despite the fact it’s Friday, the kids haven’t any school. Mid-term break here lasts from 3 Feb to 13 Feb. And naturally until the past few days the weather was awful, which meant we couldn’t go out. Thank God for the telly and video, which helped to keep them occupied, except they spent the whole time fighting over which channel to watch, which tended to get rather noisy at times, especially after I’d given the three of them a belt in the ear!
Also, as Chantal and Yvan are on two weeks’ holidays at the moment, there are only three of them in the restaurant, and you need at the VERY minimum four, so I give a hand every day for an hour. I just empty the dishwasher, which isn’t hard. As well as all of that, the woman who generally comes a few mornings a week didn’t come this week. I don’t know why. So, contrary to the normal, I’ve been rather busy, and will continue to be so for the next week. Hence this letter will take some time to write.
Sunday, 12 February
Celia got this great little camera at Boots just before Christmas. So, of course, she spent the whole holidays trying it out. Anyway, the result was a fat envelope last week, containing a loan of the photos. They really turned out terrific and everyone turned out marvellously, even me! She asked me to send them back at once, but as I had a letter all ready to send to Sue, I was rather naughty, and sent four of them to her. So, if you get in touch with her immediately, you might get to see them before she sends them back to me. But can you please impress on Sue that if I don’t get them reasonably soon I’m likely to be hanged, drawn and quartered!
I was supposed to go to Paris on about the seventeenth of this month. As you may know, Viv’s sister was supposed to give me a loan of her apartment as she was going skiing. But it turns out she’s not going on hols after all! I’ve been looking forward to going since it was arranged last Sept, and now, nothing. But Viv says that by hook or by crook she’ll arrange something. But I’ll probably end up waiting until after the season. Do you think it’s some kind of plot to get me to
stay on?! And as well as that, I was supposed to have a guide, a workmate of Annie’s, to show me around. I don’t fancy trying to find my own way around the city. He was going to take his hols the same time as me. That means, of course, that when – and if – I eventually get there, Pierre will be working. I really think I was born under an unlucky star.
I meant to ask you the last time I wrote, how’s the telephone going (and don’t say ‘dring!’) at your grandma’s? Also, is Joan still off the fags? And are there still cats jumping in and out of the window in your kitchen? And is your mother keeping a shine on ‘my’ coffee-table? There are times when I could certainly do with a cup of her coffee – the stuff here is disgusting!! Hey, do ya think ya could buy us a flask, huh?
Thanks for the newspapers too. Was the ‘Miss Carrick’ fixed? I think Finola, Jackie Murphy or Susan Kelly all looked much nicer than the winner. But maybe I’m being unfair and she just doesn’t take a good photo. And I suppose personality comes into it too.
Y’know, it suddenly hit me this morning (in Mass!) that I really don’t know anything about your course. Well, I know what subjects you’re doing and what the people in your class are like, but that’s all I know. Let’s be more specific. How long does the course last for? Do you go working for W & G immediately afterwards? Do you get a degree or something? What does the contract you signed say? What happens if you break it? When are you opening your own offices?! It’ll be great when I’m rich and famous, having a friend who’s an accountant, I mean. That way you can fiddle my books, so that I can become even richer!
Monday, 13 February
Despite the fact that Thomas can occasionally be an absolute brat, he really is a fantastic kid. He’s very funny, cute and cuddly, and I’d love to have a son like him, in about ten years’ time. As a matter of fact, I think that a lot of people believe he IS my kid! For example, one day last week, I was in the wool shop in Trégunc, and Thomas said something. The girl behind the counter exclaimed, ‘Oh, he speaks French too!’ So I just kinda stared at her with me gob opened, until she said, ‘He’s your son, isn’t he?’ Then I copped on! Generally, I don’t mind even if I feel that I’m far too young to have a kid that age, of any age as a matter of fact! Actually I often feel sorta proud, like yesterday, when we went for our usual Sunday afternoon walk on the beach. This couple passed, and T said hello, and gave a BEAUTIFUL smile. And the lady said that he was ‘mignon’. I felt about ten feet tall!
But that works both ways. A bit later, there was this really dishy guy, walking his dog, and Thomas went over to rub the dog. I’m sure the guy thought Thomas was mine. That I do not like! I must make the whole thing clear when the summer and gorgeous fellas (I hope!) arrive. Otherwise, things could be rather boring and dull for me.
Had a letter from Eleanor today. She seems in fine form, but a bit upset because her weekend off had been suddenly changed. I think she’s very much a home bird, and who wouldn’t be with a home and family like hers? She also included two photos, one where she was smooching with a skeleton, another of herself and Ger at a social (only in that one they WEREN’T smooching, sob, sob!).
A letter from Anne arrived too. She had lovely notepaper, perhaps you’ve seen it? She said she was going to write to you. Speaking of paper, I adore yours! Where’d you nick it? I get the impression that the pad is really thick as you always write gorgeous long letters, and I’ve about five of them on the same paper. It’s cute!
I’m sending you the train ticket I had at Christmas. Also enclosed is the timetable I had to follow. It was rather frightening, especially as I kept thinking of the song ‘Lost In France’!
Thank God, the kids are back at school, so I’ll have a bit of peace and quiet now, for a few hours every day. Gosh, that sounds like an old married matron! I’ve had a headache since I don’t know when. But that could be partly blamed on my goggles. Now that I’m not going to Gay Paris I’ll have enuf money to get them changed. I imagine it’ll work out at about a month’s wages, i.e. £100, which isn’t too bad.
I won’t finish this letter by saying, ‘Well, I’ve run out of news now’, for the simple reason I believe that I didn’t give you any news!
So, I’ll just shut up, with the warning that I’ll throw a fit if I don’t hear from you very soon.
Lots of love, and miss you all at 63,
Catherine
14 February – PS Did you get any cards today? I doubt that I will, but am keeping my fingers crossed just the same! ETA of postman – half an hour from now.
Part 3
* * *
AWAKENING
Spring 1984
Letter 16 / Tragedy in Granard
Carrick
4 March 1984
Hi Cathy,
Guess you must be having kittens by now, huh? I’m really, really sorry it took so long for me to write back, but I honestly didn’t get around to it. Last week every spare second had to be spent in catching up on me Law for a test. If it’s any consolation to youse, I got good marks, so your sacrificing of not getting a letter contributed to it!
Any road, how are ya? Things are as usual over ’ere. Maw and Paw are as daft as ever. No, we’ve got no pussies jumping in the kitchen window any more but we have adopted a new black kitten. He’s really adorable (but a bit skinny). Actually we haven’t named him* yet. How would you like the honour of doing so?
The little fella next door (Stephen who’s about 2½) is nuts about him. He calls pussy the goggy (or maybe it’s doggy!). Stephen is really wild but is so cute; he’s adorable. Maybe I’ll change my mind when summer comes and he starts jumping on our prize dahlias and takes a fancy to pelting stones at the big girl next door!
How’s your little charge? I’m really delighted you’re getting on so well with him. Nothing like the auld maternal instinct, huh?!
By the way, guess who got married yesterday, P— T—. She married the baby’s father. Her father wasn’t at the wedding, I heard, ’cos himself and the missus have finally split up and he was afraid if he went that she’d create a scene and spoil the day for everyone. Talk about Dallas, huh? I saw S— N— up town last Wednesday pushing a pram. She looked so old and so, well, MARRIED-LOOKING that I had to look twice before I recognised her. Also I saw a photo (which I’ve passed on to you) of Mary Hurton’s wedding. Is she the same Mary Hurton that you used to talk of? The fella’s not bad-looking, huh?
Nearly got a heart attack this morning. I went over town with Anne-Marie after Mass. We went into Coghlans where I weighed myself. Guess what. I’ve gained nearly a half stone – 8 stone 6 pounds. There’s no sense to me, though; I’m gone stark raving mad about choccy, and chippies, and crispies and … at this rate, I’ll get no summer clothes to fit moi (which incidentally are fantastic in Waterford – with fantastic prices too). I guess, though, that the shock didn’t have much effect, as I’ve already eaten an ice cream, bar of choccy, some bonbons and Rolos since dinner and it’s just three o’clock now! Actually, I think my maw’s half to blame as she loads up the drawers with the aforementioned nasties and I, being the obliging, non-wasteful soul that I am must eat ’em!
I wonder did you hear anything on your news over there about Ann Lovett? No? Well, there’s been this big row over here about it and everyone’s been talking about it since. You see there was this girl called Ann Lovett in Granard, Co. Longford who was fifteen. There about a month ago some schoolboys found her in a grotto to Our Lady, having just given birth to a baby boy. Both mother and baby died later. Immediately, all of the holier-than-thous went preaching. Nuala Fennell* ordered a full investigation as to how such a thing could happen in 1984. All the journalists and reporte
rs went snooping – big headlines, photos, the works. It seemed her parents knew nothing about it. Her teachers and nuns in school knew nothing (though she was still attending school up to the birth!) and she’d made her friends swear not to tell anyone. A big furore but little consolation to the fifteen-year-old or her little son, or indeed to the next unmarried mother.
Actually, I met Sister E— on the bus one evening. She wanted to know what we (as students) thought about it all. Then she went on to say how the schools do their best to educate about sex, etc. All I could do was listen. I couldn’t spoil her illusions!
Things seem to be going from bad to worse in Irish society at the moment. Just two weeks ago Maurice was telling me that there had been three suicides in Charleville alone the previous week. One fifteen-year-old boy who had been suspended from school for having a flick knife was so afraid to tell his parents that he went round asking his friends about the best way to commit suicide. Thinking it was a joke, they all contributed to the banter. But no one was laughing when they found him next day with his head blown off. Apparently, he had tied the trigger of his father’s shotgun to his toe and …
In Cappoquin, a fifteen-year-old girl left her books in the study hall, along with a suicide note, and went and jumped off a bridge!
Anyway, on a brighter note – I finally phoned Sue. She seems to be having a whale of a time. Even had a certain young gentleman up to stay the weekend. She didn’t say much else (actually the auld cow in the telephone exchange had her waxy little ear to our conversation) but promised she’d write to me. She said something about you having enough info about her goings-on to hang her. Pass it on to moi, and I’ll look for a tree!
Dear Cathy ... Love, Mary Page 10