things develop with a feller.
It’s best not to get involved with a Protestant from the start.”
“I’ll tell him I won’t see him again after tonight.”
“In that case, you won’t need our Flo’s best frock. Go in something old. He might get ideas if you arrive all dolled up.”
Flo felt cross with both her sisters, one for being so bossy and the other for allowing herself to be bossed.
“What are you doing with yourself tonight, luv?” Mam asked.
“I thought I’d stay in and read a book—but I’ll play cards with you if you like.” When Dad was alive, the two of them used to play cards for hours.
“No, ta, luv. I feel a bit tired. I might go to bed after I’ve had a cup of tea. I’ll not bother with the apple pie, Martha.”
“I wish you’d go to the doctor’s, Mam,” Flo said worriedly. Kate Clancy had never been a strong woman, and since the sudden, violent death of her beloved husband, she seemed to have lost the will to live, becoming thinner and more frail by the day.
“So do I.” Martha stroked Mam’s hair, which had changed from ash-blonde to genuine silver almost overnight.
The,
too,” echoed Sally.
But Mam screwed her thin face into the stubborn expression they’d seen many times before. “Now, don’t you girls start on that again,” she said tightly. “I’ve told you, I’m not seeing a doctor. He might find something wrong with me, and there’s no way I’m letting them cut me open. I’m just run down, that’s all. I’ll feel better when the warm weather comes.”
“Are you taking the bile beans I bought?” Martha demanded.
“They’re beside me bed and I take them every morning.”
The girls glanced at each other with concern. If Mam died so soon after Dad, they didn’t think they could bear it.
Mam went to bed and Sally got ready to meet Brian Maloney. Martha made her remove her earrings before she left, as if sixpenny pearl earrings from Woolworths would drive a man so wild with desire that he’d propose on the spot and Sally would feel obliged to accept!
It was Flo’s turn to wash and dry the dishes. She cleared the table, shook the white cloth in the yard, straightened the green chenille cloth underneath and folded one leaf of the table down, before putting the white cloth on again for when their lodger came home. A meal fit for a giant was in the oven keeping warm. Flo set his place: knife, fork and spoon, condiments to the right, mustard to the left. As soon as she’d finished, she sank into the armchair with the novel she was halfway through, Shattered Love, Shattered Dreams.
Martha came in and adjusted everything on the table as if it had been crooked. “You’ve always got your head buried in a book, Flo Clancy,” she remarked.
“You moan when I go out and you moan when I stay in.” Flo made a face at her sister. “What do you expect me to do all night? Sit and twiddle me thumbs?”
“I wasn’t moaning, I was merely stating a fact.” Martha gave the table a critical glance. “Will you look after Albert when he comes?”
“Of course.” There was nothing to be done except move the plate from the oven to the table, which Albert could no doubt manage alone if no help was available.
“I’d stay meself, but I promised to go and see Elsa Cameron. That baby’s getting her down something awful. I’m sure she smacks him, yet the little lad’s not even twelve months old.”
“Norman? He’s a lovely baby. I wouldn’t mind having him meself
“Nor I.” Martha shoved a hatpin into a little veiled cocked hat, then sighed as she adjusted her glasses in the mirror. She was smartly dressed, although she was only going around the corner, in a long grey skirt with a cardigan to inarch. The whole outfit had cost ten bob in Paddy’s Market. “Trouble is, Flo, I’m beginning to think Elsa’s not quite right in the head. She’s been acting dead peculiar since Norman arrived. The other day when I turned up she was undoing her knitting,
It’s best not to get involved with a Protestant from the start.”
“I’ll tell him I won’t see him again after tonight.”
“In that case, you won’t need our Flo’s best frock. Go in something old. He might get ideas if you arrive all dolled up.”
Flo felt cross with both her sisters, one for being so bossy and the other for allowing herself to be bossed.
“What are you doing with yourself tonight, luv?” Mam asked.
“I thought I’d stay in and read a book—but I’ll play cards with you if you like.” When Dad was alive, the two of them used to play cards for hours.
“No, ta, luv. I feel a bit tired. I might go to bed after I’ve had a cup of tea. I’ll not bother with the apple pie, Martha.”
“I wish you’d go to the doctor’s, Mam,” Flo said worriedly. Kate Clancy had never been a strong woman, and since the sudden, violent death of her beloved husband, she seemed to have lost the will to live, becoming thinner and more frail by the day.
“So do I.” Martha stroked Mam’s hair, which had changed from ash-blonde to genuine silver almost overnight.
The,
too,” echoed Sally.
But Mam screwed her thin face into the stubborn expression they’d seen many times before. “Now, don’t you girls start on that again,” she said tightly. “I’ve told you, I’m not seeing a doctor. He might find something wrong with me, and there’s no way I’m letting them cut me open. I’m just run down, that’s all. I’ll feel better when the warm weather comes.”
“Are you taking the bile beans I bought?” Martha demanded.
“They’re beside me bed and I take them every morning.”
The girls glanced at each other with concern. If Mam died so soon after Dad, they didn’t think they could bear it.
Mam went to bed and Sally got ready to meet Brian Maloney. Martha made her remove her earrings before she left, as if sixpenny pearl earrings from Woolworths would drive a man so wild with desire that he’d propose on the spot and Sally would feel obliged to accept!
It was Flo’s turn to wash and dry the dishes. She cleared the table, shook the white cloth in the yard, straightened the green chenille cloth underneath and folded one leaf of the table down, before putting the white cloth on again for when their lodger came home. A meal fit for a giant was in the oven keeping warm. Flo set his place: knife, fork and spoon, condiments to the right, mustard to the left. As soon as she’d finished, she sank into the armchair with the novel she was halfway through, Shattered Love, Shattered Dreams.
Martha came in and adjusted everything on the table as if it had been crooked. “You’ve always got your head buried in a book, Flo Clancy,” she remarked.
“You moan when I go out and you moan when I stay in.” Flo made a face at her sister. “What do you expect me to do all night? Sit and twiddle me thumbs?”
“I wasn’t moaning, I was merely stating a fact.” Martha gave the table a critical glance. “Will you look after Albert when he comes?”
“Of course.” There was nothing to be done except move the plate from the oven to the table, which Albert could no doubt manage alone if no help was available.
“I’d stay meself, but I promised to go and see Elsa Cameron. That baby’s getting her down something awful. I’m sure she smacks him, yet the little lad’s not even twelve months old.”
“Norman? He’s a lovely baby. I wouldn’t mind having him meself
“Nor I.” Martha shoved a hatpin into a little veiled cocked hat, then sighed as she adjusted her glasses in the mirror. She was smartly dressed, although she was only going around the corner, in a long grey skirt with a cardigan to inarch. The whole outfit had cost ten bob in Paddy’s Market. “Trouble is, Flo, I’m beginning to think Elsa’s not quite right in the head. She’s been acting dead peculiar since Norman arrived. The other day when I turned up she was undoing her knitting,
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