Read Online Shamrock Green by Jessica Stirling - Free Book Online Page B

so busy, had felt like a fool standing outside Fran’s door, knocking desperately upon it even after it became apparent Fran was not at home. She had been engulfed by disappointment and annoyed by his indifference but by the time she’d picked her way down the spiral staircase to the street, she had calmed down. After all, she reasoned, Fran had important things to do and she could hardly expect him to be lying in bed all day long, awaiting her arrival.
    She had called in at the butcher’s on the way home and had left a large order with the greengrocer next door. Back in the Shamrock she had helped Jansis iron sheets and Maeve change beds and, in a charitable mood, had served Mr Dolan a bowl of soup in his room where the old chap spent most of his time these days. Now, in the quiet part of the afternoon, the women and girl were alone.
    â€˜Can’t you trust Daddy?’ Maeve, busy with the needle, said.
    â€˜Daddy’s different,’ Sylvie told her.
    â€˜What about Charlie?’
    â€˜No, you have to be careful even with Uncle Charlie.’
    â€˜Careful, what d’ you mean “careful”?’
    Jansis and Sylvie exchanged a glance over the swaddle of curtain material.
    â€˜Just,’ Sylvie said, ‘careful.’
    â€˜Not to let him take liberties, you mean?’ said Maeve.
    â€˜Has Charlie done that, has he tried to—’
    â€˜No, no,’ said Maeve. ‘He hasn’t done anything.’
    â€˜What,’ Jansis enquired, ‘about Mr Trotter?’
    â€˜Turk? Nah. He knows Charlie would kill him if he did,’ Maeve said.
    Sylvie cleared her throat. ‘If he did – what?’
    â€˜Kissed me, or tried to,’ said Maeve.
    â€˜Kissed you, is that all?’ said Jansis.
    Sylvie frowned and shook her head in warning.
    â€˜I know what you’re talkin’ about,’ Maeve said.
    â€˜Do you now?’ Sylvie said. ‘What are we talking about then?’
    â€˜Huggin’.’ In spite of her precocity a faint pink blush appeared on Maeve’s cheeks. She took refuge in sewing. ‘You’re not allowed to let a man hug you.’
    â€˜Not unless you’re married,’ said Jansis.
    â€˜Is it a mortal sin then?’ Maeve asked.
    â€˜It – aye, it is a sin, though maybe not mortal.’
    â€˜Have you ever been hugged, Jansis?’
    â€˜What like a question is that to be askin’ a respectable woman?’
    â€˜Have you?’
    â€˜No, indeed I have not.’
    â€˜Never?’
    â€˜No. Never.’
    â€˜Wouldn’t you like to be hugged?’
    â€˜Maeve, that’s enough,’ Sylvie said. ‘Go and brew us a pot of tea. We could all be doing with something before the knockers come to the door.’
    â€˜I’ll do it,’ Jansis volunteered. ‘I’m weary of stitching anyway.’
    The servant left the sitting-room and padded down to the kitchen.
    Sylvie noticed that the house had a different smell today, richer and more exuberant, as if an influx of guests had added texture to the air.
    She snipped a thread with her teeth and tied off the loose end.
    â€˜Was he not there, Mam?’ Maeve said. ‘Is that why you came home early?’
    â€˜Who?’
    â€˜The person you go to see every day, the man?’
    â€˜Man? What man? What are you blatherin’ about?’
    â€˜Is it him? Is it Mr Hagarty?’ Maeve said.
    â€˜Mister – no, of course it isn’t Mr Hagarty.’
    â€˜Who is it then?’
    â€˜I go to the market for provisions.’
    â€˜Every day?’ Maeve said. ‘I mean, every day for three hours?’
    â€˜Has Jansis been complaining about the extra work?’
    â€˜Jansis complains all the time.’ Maeve scraped her chair across the floor and brought herself knee to knee with Sylvie. ‘You can tell me, Mam. Is it really Mr Hagarty? It is, isn’t it?’
    â€˜Mr Hagarty is far too busy a