help it, only ‘her’ or sometimes, mockingly, ‘Miss Olivia’. She thought Livvy was sly. It was just the way Liwy looked, her greenish-blonde flesh, her coils of hair that were bright like the moon, not the sun, her pale, slanting eyes. Kate had never bothered to get to know Livvy.
‘If that’s beautiful, you can call me a kettle,’ she said.
Livvy made me think of hyacinths. She was waxy, like they were, with the kind of scent that you could not get out of your mind once you had smelled it. She was cool and perfect. Her furs were like the dark sheath of earth from which the white hyacinths grew. The real, clodded earth of the fields and woods never came near Livvy.
Rob got up and stretched, making wild shadows on the ceiling. Kate ducked under his arm, giving him a push towards the door.
‘Get on with you, I’ve her hair to do yet, and that dress to get on.’ The draught flickered between my shoulder blades as he shut the door behind him.
‘Sit down so I can get at you,’ instructed Kate as she pulled my hair loose for brushing. The brush would never go through unless she lifted my hair and swept it through from underneath.
‘You’d think the black would come off on your fingers,’ Kate grumbled. It was hard to make my hair shine, though the fire brought out glints of red and gold in its blackness. The strong, sure tug of the brush in Kate’s hands was almost the oldest thing I remembered. And the blue sparks in the dark nursery at night.
She rubbed in some pomade to soften it, and brushed again. There would be no sparks tonight. The violet pomade masked the smells of hair and skin, as the violet soap had done. I wanted to wash it off.
‘It’s going up beautifully,’ said Kate in triumph, as her quick fingers twisted, knotted and pinned. I felt my head grow heavy, and the cool air struck my neck. The knot of hair pulled my head back. Kate fluffed curls loose on my forehead, wetted her finger, ran it round the inside of a curl so it would lie as she left it.
‘Look at yourself!’ she told me. I saw the rich slope of my shoulder, the heavy, cloudy knob of hair, the line of my cheek and jaw.
‘It’s a crime to put that dress on top of it,’ said Kate, but I stood and lifted my arms and she slipped the silk over my head, holding the dress like a tent so it would not touch my hair. There was a brief moment of pleasure as the cool stuff slithered down me, then it settled and Kate twitched at the folds, fastened the neck, pulled the skirt straight. I stood still, not bothering to look in the mirror. I knew Kate was looking for me.
‘Hmm,’ she murmured disappointedly.
I glanced and saw how the rose-pink drapery bulked out my breasts and made the mass of hair above it look suddenly too dark and clumsy. The skirt was not right either.
‘It’s the devil of a dress,’ exclaimed Kate, looking as if she would like to tear it off me.
‘It’s what they all wear, it doesn’t matter,’ I said.
‘Think of black velvet. If they’d even put some black velvet ribbon, say here, across the neckline …’
‘It would only make it worse. The silk is too light. It would bunch it up even more.’
‘Yes, you’re right. Now if Eileen was here …’ said Kate in frustration. Eileen was the one for clothes. She would have done something about the silk, if only to make sure it was never bought. Kate could do anything with hair, but though she could see in her mind’s eye just how the black velvet of her imagination would look on me, she could not cut out and sew the way Eileen could.
‘Grandfather will like it, anyway,’ I said. Kate smiled back. For once I would look like Grandfather’s version of the young girl growing up in his house.
‘And Miss Gallagher will be in raptures,’ I added.
‘God, girl, you’re right. Get yourself down to the company before she comes creeping up the back stairs to paw you.’
The fire shuffled softly as the coals collapsed inward.
‘Put more coal on,
‘If that’s beautiful, you can call me a kettle,’ she said.
Livvy made me think of hyacinths. She was waxy, like they were, with the kind of scent that you could not get out of your mind once you had smelled it. She was cool and perfect. Her furs were like the dark sheath of earth from which the white hyacinths grew. The real, clodded earth of the fields and woods never came near Livvy.
Rob got up and stretched, making wild shadows on the ceiling. Kate ducked under his arm, giving him a push towards the door.
‘Get on with you, I’ve her hair to do yet, and that dress to get on.’ The draught flickered between my shoulder blades as he shut the door behind him.
‘Sit down so I can get at you,’ instructed Kate as she pulled my hair loose for brushing. The brush would never go through unless she lifted my hair and swept it through from underneath.
‘You’d think the black would come off on your fingers,’ Kate grumbled. It was hard to make my hair shine, though the fire brought out glints of red and gold in its blackness. The strong, sure tug of the brush in Kate’s hands was almost the oldest thing I remembered. And the blue sparks in the dark nursery at night.
She rubbed in some pomade to soften it, and brushed again. There would be no sparks tonight. The violet pomade masked the smells of hair and skin, as the violet soap had done. I wanted to wash it off.
‘It’s going up beautifully,’ said Kate in triumph, as her quick fingers twisted, knotted and pinned. I felt my head grow heavy, and the cool air struck my neck. The knot of hair pulled my head back. Kate fluffed curls loose on my forehead, wetted her finger, ran it round the inside of a curl so it would lie as she left it.
‘Look at yourself!’ she told me. I saw the rich slope of my shoulder, the heavy, cloudy knob of hair, the line of my cheek and jaw.
‘It’s a crime to put that dress on top of it,’ said Kate, but I stood and lifted my arms and she slipped the silk over my head, holding the dress like a tent so it would not touch my hair. There was a brief moment of pleasure as the cool stuff slithered down me, then it settled and Kate twitched at the folds, fastened the neck, pulled the skirt straight. I stood still, not bothering to look in the mirror. I knew Kate was looking for me.
‘Hmm,’ she murmured disappointedly.
I glanced and saw how the rose-pink drapery bulked out my breasts and made the mass of hair above it look suddenly too dark and clumsy. The skirt was not right either.
‘It’s the devil of a dress,’ exclaimed Kate, looking as if she would like to tear it off me.
‘It’s what they all wear, it doesn’t matter,’ I said.
‘Think of black velvet. If they’d even put some black velvet ribbon, say here, across the neckline …’
‘It would only make it worse. The silk is too light. It would bunch it up even more.’
‘Yes, you’re right. Now if Eileen was here …’ said Kate in frustration. Eileen was the one for clothes. She would have done something about the silk, if only to make sure it was never bought. Kate could do anything with hair, but though she could see in her mind’s eye just how the black velvet of her imagination would look on me, she could not cut out and sew the way Eileen could.
‘Grandfather will like it, anyway,’ I said. Kate smiled back. For once I would look like Grandfather’s version of the young girl growing up in his house.
‘And Miss Gallagher will be in raptures,’ I added.
‘God, girl, you’re right. Get yourself down to the company before she comes creeping up the back stairs to paw you.’
The fire shuffled softly as the coals collapsed inward.
‘Put more coal on,
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