THIRTEEN

      Molly took Nellie’s words to heart and they helped her cope in the days that followed and the next Sunday she was able to talk of it with just a hint of Sadness.

      ‘We used to make a big thing of birthdays,’ Molly told Nellie and Cathy the following Sunday afternoon. ‘On Dad’s birthday, the year before Mom was sick, we went to the Alex Theatre in Birmingham to see a variety show. Kevin didn’t go because he was too young, so Granddad looked after him and it was just me and my parents, and there was a man called Max Wall as the star of the show. What a comedian!

      ‘I remember laughing so hard my stomach ached and then to put the tin hat on it, though we’d had this party tea and all before we left the house, we bought fish and chips on the way home and ate them out of the paper. It was the perfect end to the perfect day, and nothing can ever erase my memory of that. What hurts me a bit is that Kevin won’t have many memories at all. I mean, what can you really remember clearly from when you were five?’

      ‘Not a lot,’ Cathy and Nellie admitted.

      ‘Sometimes I think because he was so young, eventually he will probably forget what our parents looked like,’ Molly said.

      ‘It must be terribly hard for him right enough,’ Nellie said with sympathy, ‘and I often think it was wrong to part you. You really needed each other and please God you will be together soon.’

      ‘There is still a part of me, like a nagging tooth, that asks why?’ Molly said. ‘That was the question Kevin asked the priest on the day of the funeral. But of course he didn’t know either. I think Kevin thought he had a sort of hotline to God and could come up with a host of reasons why He needed our parents more than we did at that time.’

      ‘I really understand your bewilderment,’ Nellie said. ‘And I haven’t any answers to give you either. It was a dreadful and terribly tragic accident. To be honest, there are many things in the world that I don’t understand, but I have to live life the way it is.’

      ‘I do see what you mean,’ Molly said. ‘And you are right. We all hear of horrible things happening to people every day of the week. And now that this has happened to me, and I can do nothing to change it, the only way to deal with it is to go on, look forward and live my life as my parents would want me to.’

      Both Nellie and Cathy were astounded by Molly’s stoicism and courage. Nellie gave her hands a squeeze as she said gently, ‘Well done, my dear. Now, how about tea and cake all round?’

      ‘I’d say about time too,’ Jack said, coming into the room at that moment. He had a large grin plastered to his face as he went on, ‘And be quick about it too, woman. Tom will be here soon and we don’t want the Guinness spoiling.’

      ‘Don’t you “woman” me, Jack McEvoy,’ Nellie said in mock indignation, though she got to her feet as she spoke. ‘And as for the Guinness spoiling, you never leave it in the glass long enough to spoil. And I wasn’t talking to you, anyway. It was Cathy and Molly I was speaking to.’

      Cathy raised her eyes to the ceiling, and Molly bit her lip to prevent a laugh escaping as they heard Jack’s indignant voice as he followed his wife out of the room, protesting, ‘Well, I like that, not talking to me, not considering me at all and me the head of the house …’

      Molly felt a surge of happiness that she could count on this family, who were so at one with one another, as her friends. She said, ‘I do think your parents are lovely.’

      Cathy pretended to consider this and then said with a grin, ‘They’re not so bad, as parents go. I think I have done quite a good job of knocking them into shape.’

      Molly laughed. ‘I wonder what your mother would say about that, Cathy. Maybe we should ask her. Isn’t that her voice calling us now?’

      Cathy left school that summer and began work in the shop full time. To mark the occasion, Nellie bought her new clothes, including a couple of brassieres to accommodate her quite large and pendulous breasts. Molly was so envious of the brassieres that Cathy showed her the Sunday after they were bought, but even more envious of the size of Cathy’s breasts, which would fit in them, for hers were small in comparison.

      ‘Don’t worry about it,’ Cathy said, when Molly said this. ‘Anyway, with your build wouldn’t large breasts look a bit stupid?’

      ‘I suppose,’ Molly agreed, for she was very fine-boned.

      ‘They are not much use to me either,’ Cathy went on. ‘I mean, think about it. Look at the figure you have, and the skin and hair I would die for. It isn’t as if I can take out my breasts for everyone to have a look and remark on how big they are, is it?’ And then there was a slight pause before she said, ‘Not just yet a while, anyway.’

      ‘Cathy!’

      ‘Why are you so shocked?’ Cathy said. ‘Someone will be entitled to take a look at them one day. And,’ she added with an impish grin, ‘more than a look if I know anything.’

      ‘Do you ever think about things like that?’

      ‘Don’t you?’

      ‘I asked first.’

      ‘Well, course I do,’ Cathy said. ‘It’s natural, isn’t it, to wonder?’

      ‘You don’t think it’s a sin?’

      ‘How could it be?’ Cathy said. ‘The priests would probably say it was but, God, don’t they see sin everywhere? If you got out of bed one morning and blew your nose, they would find probably find some sin in there somewhere.’

      ‘So you don’t confess it?’

      ‘I do not,’ Cathy said emphatically. ‘And you won’t either if you have any sense. What Mammy told us last month, did you think that a sin?’

      ‘No,’