Read Online Whitethorn Woods by Maeve Binchy - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Maeve Binchy
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him wrong things about this horse.
"Well for you, Sharon, out in foreign parts," he said, looking at me resentfully.
"I know, Dad, I was very lucky," I said and saw my mam's face relax. In fact I wasn't lucky at all, I was just hardworking. I had saved twenty euro a week from the money I earn at the dry cleaner for thirty-seven whole weeks! All to pay for this holiday and a few outfits to wear on it.
Dad had never saved anything. Mam saved, all right, but then she spent it all on us and the house and getting him a few decent shirts in case he ever had an interview and might ever get a job again.
My young brothers came in for their tea and I gave them all the big box of Italian biscuits I had brought home and my dad dipped them into his tea because his teeth weren't good and he hated chewing things.
Suppose I had brought Glenn home here? To this room draped with clothes drying on the backs of chairs, with newspapers open at the racing page thrown around the floor. With no cloth on the table. I gave a shiver at the thought.
Next day it was back to work in the dry cleaner in my uniform and it was as if I had never been on holiday. The girls who worked there did comment on my tan, all right, but the customers never noticed. They only cared about getting a red wine stain out of a white lace blouse without leaving a trace or how to get tar out of an expensive skirt where someone had sat on something that couldn't be shifted.
Then I looked up and Glenn was standing there at the counter.
"You look beautiful in yellow," he said, and suddenly I thought it might well be all right. He hadn't forgotten me, he wasn't going to dump me.
He worked for his uncle, who was a builder, and had a job that was quite nearby. We could meet every day, he said. The question of where we might meet every night was one that could be dealt with later. He was one of six children, so no space in his house, and there was no way he was going to be let within a mile of Chez Sharon.
And then even the customers began to notice me—they said I was all smiles and good cheer. The girls who worked with me told them I was in love, and they loved to hear that. In a world of grease-based stains, water stains and fabrics that crumpled up as soon as you looked at them, it was pleasant and distracting to think about love, just for a moment or two.
We went to Vera's on the following Friday. It was in a very smart part of town, I don't suppose the residents had ever seen people like Glenn and me and Todd and Alma visiting that area before. Vera had a three-story house, much too big for her and Rotary, the ginger cat who lived with her. Of course Nick might be going to live with her too the way things were working out. They got on together like a house on fire and he had obviously been visiting her every day since his return. He laughed so much at her jokes and told us that she was a wonderful woman. He closed his eyes when he said "wonderful."
Nick, it appeared, lived in rented accommodations a bus ride away. Surely he would come and live in this big place. They would be company for each other and they might even get married.
Vera had made us a big spaghetti Bolognese, and Nick had made a great pavlova full of strawberries, and everyone had a great time except Alma, who whispered to me that Todd had suggested they cool it a bit, which was bad news. And then, when Todd said he had to leave early, Alma said she'd go with him, which I thought was a bad idea, it looked clinging. You could see that he was annoyed and that made poor Alma more anxious than ever.
Anyway Vera and I were doing the washing up and Glenn was helping Nick to cut back some of the worst briars and brambles that were threatening to take over the back door of the house.
"You two look nice and cozy together," I said as I dried the plates.
"Yes, he's a very, very good man," Vera said, pleased with it
"Well for you, Sharon, out in foreign parts," he said, looking at me resentfully.
"I know, Dad, I was very lucky," I said and saw my mam's face relax. In fact I wasn't lucky at all, I was just hardworking. I had saved twenty euro a week from the money I earn at the dry cleaner for thirty-seven whole weeks! All to pay for this holiday and a few outfits to wear on it.
Dad had never saved anything. Mam saved, all right, but then she spent it all on us and the house and getting him a few decent shirts in case he ever had an interview and might ever get a job again.
My young brothers came in for their tea and I gave them all the big box of Italian biscuits I had brought home and my dad dipped them into his tea because his teeth weren't good and he hated chewing things.
Suppose I had brought Glenn home here? To this room draped with clothes drying on the backs of chairs, with newspapers open at the racing page thrown around the floor. With no cloth on the table. I gave a shiver at the thought.
Next day it was back to work in the dry cleaner in my uniform and it was as if I had never been on holiday. The girls who worked there did comment on my tan, all right, but the customers never noticed. They only cared about getting a red wine stain out of a white lace blouse without leaving a trace or how to get tar out of an expensive skirt where someone had sat on something that couldn't be shifted.
Then I looked up and Glenn was standing there at the counter.
"You look beautiful in yellow," he said, and suddenly I thought it might well be all right. He hadn't forgotten me, he wasn't going to dump me.
He worked for his uncle, who was a builder, and had a job that was quite nearby. We could meet every day, he said. The question of where we might meet every night was one that could be dealt with later. He was one of six children, so no space in his house, and there was no way he was going to be let within a mile of Chez Sharon.
And then even the customers began to notice me—they said I was all smiles and good cheer. The girls who worked with me told them I was in love, and they loved to hear that. In a world of grease-based stains, water stains and fabrics that crumpled up as soon as you looked at them, it was pleasant and distracting to think about love, just for a moment or two.
We went to Vera's on the following Friday. It was in a very smart part of town, I don't suppose the residents had ever seen people like Glenn and me and Todd and Alma visiting that area before. Vera had a three-story house, much too big for her and Rotary, the ginger cat who lived with her. Of course Nick might be going to live with her too the way things were working out. They got on together like a house on fire and he had obviously been visiting her every day since his return. He laughed so much at her jokes and told us that she was a wonderful woman. He closed his eyes when he said "wonderful."
Nick, it appeared, lived in rented accommodations a bus ride away. Surely he would come and live in this big place. They would be company for each other and they might even get married.
Vera had made us a big spaghetti Bolognese, and Nick had made a great pavlova full of strawberries, and everyone had a great time except Alma, who whispered to me that Todd had suggested they cool it a bit, which was bad news. And then, when Todd said he had to leave early, Alma said she'd go with him, which I thought was a bad idea, it looked clinging. You could see that he was annoyed and that made poor Alma more anxious than ever.
Anyway Vera and I were doing the washing up and Glenn was helping Nick to cut back some of the worst briars and brambles that were threatening to take over the back door of the house.
"You two look nice and cozy together," I said as I dried the plates.
"Yes, he's a very, very good man," Vera said, pleased with it
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