Anne Bennett 3-Book Collection: A Sister’s Promise, A Daughter’s Secret, A Mother’s Spirit. Anne Bennett
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think that it is far better to talk about my parents, even if it does make me a little sad. Not talking about them at all makes it seem as if they really didn’t exist and they very much did.’
‘I just can’t imagine how you have coped with it all.’
‘Don’t even try,’ Molly advised. ‘It is really so very painful, but I would rather talk of the things we did when they were alive than how and when they died.’
‘Right,’ Cathy said. ‘You are absolutely right, and we won’t go down that road unless you want to.’
Molly was surprised, when Nellie called both girls down for their tea, to find it was a quarter-past five. Never had time passed so quickly. She wished that they could have eaten their tea in the very comfortable bedroom where she could have relaxed properly with Cathy. Although she knew Nellie to be kindly to invite her to tea, she was still nervous of sitting up to a meal with her and Cathy’s father, Jack, whom she had only glimpsed at Mass.
She was worrying unduly, though, because both adults went out of their way to make Molly feel at home and more than welcome. They were like chalk and cheese to look at, Molly noted, for while Nellie was a thin and neat little woman, with eyes the same brown as her daughter’s and the same shape to her mouth, and her grey hair caught up in a bun, her husband was a bear of a man. He was about as tall as Molly’s uncle, but much broader, from his barrel chest to his more than ample stomach. His face was red, his eyes blue, and the hair that he had left on his head light brown.
He was constantly urging Molly to ‘eat up’, and offering her plate after plate of delicacies from the beautifully made sandwiches to the cakes and scones.
‘Mostly shop bought, I am afraid,’ Nellie said apologetically. ‘I am too busy with the shop to bake as well.’
Molly didn’t care. She seldom had food so fine and she tucked in with relish.
‘That’s the way, young Molly,’ said Jack approvingly. ‘I love to see a girl with an appetite.’
‘If we all ate enough to please you, Daddy, we’d be the size of a house,’ Cathy said.
Jack’s eyes twinkled as he gazed at his daughter. ‘Not at all, at all,’ he said. ‘Molly at least knows that the only thing to do with good food is eat it.’
Molly immediately wondered if she had eaten too much, been greedy. Nellie noticed her slight hesitation and urged, ‘You eat away, Molly. Nothing vexes a woman more than preparing food that people just pick at.’
Cathy hooted with laughter. ‘No danger of that here, Mammy. Anything anyone leaves is eaten by Daddy, shown clearly by his girth.’
‘You cheeky young rip,’ Jack said, but there was no menace in his voice, even when he added, ‘You are not too old for a good hiding, you know.’
‘Oh, that would be the day,’ Nellie said. ‘You have never laid a hand on any of them, even the lads, who could sometimes have done with a father’s hand. All the chastising was left to me.’
‘I am too big a man and my hands too large and rough to be hitting weans, sure,’ Jack said. ‘And you must have done the job right, for the children made a fine turn-out, the boys too.’
‘Even me?’ Cathy asked impishly.
‘No,’ Jack said. ‘Not you, for you are the worst of the lot.’ And he winked at Molly as he went on, ‘Completely ungovernable. Still, there is usually one bad apple in every barrel.’
‘Cheek!’ spluttered Cathy indignantly, while the laughter swelled around the table and Molly thought that the love apparent between Cathy and her parents reminded her of how it had been in her own home. She refused to let herself be sad and spoil this happy atmosphere, but Nellie had seen the shadow flit across Molly’s eyes and could guess her thoughts. ‘I think that we should have a bit of decorum when we sit down to a meal, particularly on a Sunday,’ she said, with a smile for Molly. ‘I would say that Molly is shocked to the core, are you not, child?’
Molly could see by the smile on Nellie’s face that she didn’t believe this for a moment, and without a trace of self-pity, she said, ‘No, not at all. I like it. It reminds me of some of the meals we used to have at home.’
There was a sudden silence and before it could become uncomfortable, Nellie said gently, ‘Can I say, my dear, if it won’t upset you too much, how like your mother you are?’
‘I know,’ Molly said happily. ‘And I am glad. My little brother looks more like my dad did. And no, it doesn’t upset me to talk about them. I don’t want anyone to think that there were so many things they couldn’t say to me that it was safest to say nothing at all, or skirt around the subject as if they were treading on eggshells.’
‘Well said, Molly,’ Jack said, clapping her on the back. ‘I think that that is the very best way to look at things. Now can I tempt you to take another cake?’
Molly shook her head. ‘I couldn’t eat another thing. I am almost too full to move already.’
‘I hope you’re not,’ Cathy said. ‘I want to show you the town.’
‘Oh,’ Molly said, ‘I would like that, but shouldn’t we help with washing-up, first?’
‘Not today,’ Nellie said firmly as she began collecting the plates. ‘Maybe when you are a regular visitor here I will let you put your hands in the sink or wield a tea towel, but today make use of the fine evening.’
‘And try and work off that lovely tea.’
‘That as well,’ Nellie said with a smile.
The post office was situated almost at the top of a hill on a wide and straight street with the hills visible in the distance ahead. It was as they walked to the top of it that Molly saw the cinema and she exclaimed in amazement. It was a sizeable cinema too, made of honey-coloured brick with arched doors at the entrance.
‘Why the shock?’ Cathy asked. ‘I’m sure they have cinemas in Birmingham.’
Molly laughed. ‘Yes, of course. The Palace cinema was just up the road, on the High Street of Erdington and there were any number if you went as far as the town, and music halls and theatres, but somehow I thought—’
‘That backwards old Ireland couldn’t have such a thing; that we share our hovel with the pigs.’
‘Cathy, I never said such a thing, or thought it either.’
‘Good job too,’ Cathy said with a grin and added, ‘Some people do, you know – English people, of course. Actually, Buncrana is a thriving little place. We have factories and mills and all sorts. In fact,’ she went on, pointing down the other side of the hill to the large grey building at the bottom of it, ‘that’s the mill my father works at. We’ll go and take a look, if you like.’
‘Oh,’ Molly said as the two of them began walking down the hill past the numerous little cottages that opened on the street, ‘he doesn’t work in the post office then?’
Cathy laughed. ‘Daddy would be no great shakes in the post office; more a liability, I think, for he can’t reckon up to save his life. Mammy is going to train me up for it as soon as I am sixteen. Till then, once I leave school for good, I will man the sweet counter and deal with the papers and cigarettes. Mammy has someone to do this now but she is leaving to get married next year, which couldn’t be better timing.’
As they walked, they met others out, some standing on their doorsteps taking the air like themselves, or groups of children playing, and most had a cheery wave or greeting for the two girls. Molly felt happiness suddenly fill her being. It was the very first time she had felt this way since that dreadful day that the policeman had come to the door, and she gave a sudden sigh.
‘What’s up?’
‘Nothing, nothing at all,’ Molly said. ‘That’s why I am sighing.’
Cathy