Finishing Touches (7 page)

She was doing the required actions with the balls. Irene was such a skinny little thing, with her spindly legs. You would think by the way Nora treated the youngest of the family that Irene was
delicate, but all that was wrong with her was that she was a bit timid. And half of that was her mother’s fault, Cassie reflected, as she got to grips with the greasy roasting-dish. After
all, it was a bit much, her mother still collecting her from school as if she was a baby. Lots of Irene’s classmates walked home through the town in the same direction and they didn’t
even have to cross the Dublin road. All she had to do was turn left off the main street, walk down Fisherman’s Lane and then she was on the coast road, with a footpath the whole way to the
farm, which was less than a mile away. Mam would have to let Irene stand on her own two feet some time. She wouldn’t even go to sleep without a light on. None of the rest of them had got away
with that!

‘Cassie, will you bring in the dinners for me?’ her mother asked. ‘That one there,’ she indicated a heaped plate, ‘is your father’s, and that’s
Laura’s.’ Nora smiled at her eldest daughter. ‘I’d be lost without you.’

Cassie smiled back at the tall dark-haired woman standing at the cooker. Her mother was a fine-looking woman. After five children and years of hard work, her hair was only lightly flecked with
grey. Her skin, untouched by make-up, was soft and unlined and her brown eyes sparkled with strength and good humour. A robust, active woman, Nora managed with ease to look after her family, assist
her husband and be involved with the local community. Her mother was a very capable woman, Cassie acknowledged, as she called Irene and Martin in out of the yard and carried the two dinner-plates
into the dining-room.

‘Great, I’m famished,’ said Jack, rubbing his hands as he seated himself at the top of the table.

‘I’ll never eat all that!’ protested Laura as she gazed in awe at the steaming plate that was placed in front of her. Despite her model-thin figure, she had a healthy appetite,
but she wasn’t used to such big helpings. Besides, her mother was not the world’s greatest cook.

‘Don’t worry, John and Martin will help,’ Cassie reassured her as she headed out to the kitchen to get some more plates.

‘Is John home yet? Put his in the oven,’ her mother instructed, as she passed by her carrying a tray with four dinners. ‘Just get your own, Cassie. Barbara! Martin! Irene!
Dinner’s on the table,’ Nora called. As Cassie prepared to put John’s plate in the oven, the crunch of tyres on gravel informed her that her brother had arrived. His timing was
always impeccable where food was concerned!

Dinner was a lively affair as usual and Cassie smiled as she saw Laura discreetly place a roast potato on each of John’s and Martin’s plates, much to their delight. After dessert,
when the boys and Irene excused themselves to go and watch the cartoons before the news, Nora said to Jack, ‘I believe you’ve given Barbara your permission to go to the junior disco and
stay at Judy’s.’

Barbara smirked self-importantly.

‘I did, love,’ Jack agreed.

‘Make sure you’re home by eleven-thirty,’ Nora said firmly.

‘Aw Mam! That’s not fair!’ Barbara protested. ‘Cassie is allowed to stay out until twelve.’

‘Cassie is a year older than you, Barbara. Don’t argue, like a good girl.’ Nora stood up from the table. ‘I’m off to my ICA meeting. Jack, Joe left some fresh crabs
in today if you want to cook them for supper. Laura is staying the night with Cassie so you can all have a sandwich.’

Oh yum yum, thought Cassie in delight, although she was as full as an egg after her dinner. If there was one thing she loved it was crab-meat. Her Uncle Joe was a pet. Nora’s brother, he
fished his trawler out of Port Mahon and kept the family supplied with fresh fish.

‘I’m going to have a bath before I go out if anyone wants to use the loo,’ announced Barbara, highly miffed at being told in front of Laura to be in by half-eleven. The
indignity of it! Spoken to as if she were a child! She was half-inclined to say that she would come home instead of staying at Judy’s so that Laura and Cassie wouldn’t have the bedroom
to themselves. But it was too late now to change her plans.

‘Just a minute, young lady!’ her father addressed her.

‘Yes, Poppa,’ Barbara said coolly. She was not in a good humour.

‘Your sister had to set the table, and that’s your job, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, but I had to play a tennis match and that’s why I was late. I’m in the league at school,’ Barbara explained, edging out the door.

‘Well, I think it wouldn’t kill you to finish the washing-up. Cassie has the saucepans all washed. Fair is fair, after all,’ Jack said firmly.

Barbara was fit to be tied! ‘But I’ll be dead late,’ she wailed.

‘Ten minutes and you’ll have it all done. And bring me in a cup of tea when you’re finished,’ Jack ordered, winking at his eldest daughter. Cassie grinned at Laura. What
a treat, not having to wash up. It wouldn’t kill Barbara for once.

‘Don’t forget
Star Trek
,’ her father reminded Cassie as he went into the sitting-room to watch the news.

Barbara was furious. ‘You had no business setting the table. That’s my job and I don’t see why I have to do this bloody washing-up. It’s not fair!’

‘Mam asked me to set the table because you weren’t here, as usual, so don’t annoy me,’ retorted Cassie.

Barbara clattered plates and cutlery together.

‘Don’t
you
annoy me, Cassie Jordan!’

‘Oh, shut up, Barbara, you do damn all anyway. It’s always left to me to help around the house, so doing the washing-up won’t kill you for once. Come on, Laura, let’s go
in and watch TV.’

‘Just go to hell,’ snarled Barbara, marching into the kitchen with a load of dirty crockery, which she dumped, none too gently, into the sink.

An hour later, Cassie, her father, Laura and the boys watched, thoroughly engrossed, as Captain Kirk, Mr Spock and the crew of the USS
Enterprise
engaged three Romulan ships in a
nail-biting battle. Barbara appeared at the door. ‘Tsk . . . such rubbish!’ she remarked with an air of supreme superiority. ‘I’ve just put the sheets of my bed in the
washing machine, so don’t turn it off by accident. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ She left, a trail of Lily of the Valley perfume wafting after her.

Little bitch! thought Cassie in annoyance. The only reason she had put her sheets in the washing machine was so that Cassie would not be able to sleep in her bed. Fortunately, Cassie had a
sleeping-bag. That would do fine. Miss Barbara would never know that she had slept on her bed. It would be better than the camp bed, and Laura could sleep in peace in Cassie’s. Typical of
Barbara to be so spiteful.

After watching their favourite television programme, the girls took themselves off to the dining-room, where, with much moaning and groaning, they proceeded to write out their
punishment lines. Their aim was to have it done before Nora got home. If Nora saw them writing lines, she’d know something was up.

They lay in their twin beds that night, sipping their hot chocolate and cream. Laura gave a huge sigh. Cassie, enveloped in a sleeping-bag on Barbara’s bed, looked over at her friend.
‘Are you worrying about Jill?’

‘Yeah, Cassie, I just feel so sorry for her. Da was such a bastard. I wish I could do something to help her. But what can I do?’

‘You can stand by her. At least she’ll know she can depend on you,’ Cassie said firmly. ‘Why don’t we go to Dublin as soon as we get out of school and spend a few
hours with her tomorrow? Do you think she’d like that?’

‘Oh Cassie, that would be great. Are you sure you don’t mind coming? Are you sure you don’t mind about her being pregnant?’

‘Don’t be daft, Laura. Who am I to mind? I just hope to God it never happens to me, that’s all. Not that there’s much chance. Here I am, fourteen and manless,’ she
reflected mournfully.

‘Are you sorry you broke it off with Andy?’ Laura asked sympathetically.

‘Well, I am and I’m not,’ Cassie said seriously. ‘It was nice having someone special and having someone to bring you to the pictures and the disco. You know
yourself.’ Laura nodded. She was currently dating Brendan Connolly, best friend of Andy.

‘I just blew a fuse when I saw him kissing Denise Atkins down at the boat-shed the night of the barbecue.’

‘It was a great barbecue,’ Laura enthused. Catching Cassie’s outraged expression she said contritely, ‘Sorry!’

‘Denise Atkins! For God’s sake! Can you believe it? She’s done it with everybody she’s dated,’ Cassie said in disgust.

‘That’s probably why Andy was kissing her,’ Laura said drily.

‘Yeah,’ agreed Cassie glumly. ‘Andy has sex on the brain.’

‘Haven’t we all?’ retorted Laura tartly. ‘Even Perpetua, Mother Patrick, and the triangle on legs, our esteemed maths mistress, go to bed at night and think of sex.
It’s human nature, my dear.’

Cassie laughed. ‘Could you just imagine Miss Fagin in the throes of ecstasy? She wouldn’t know whether she was horizontal or perpendicular.’

‘Switch out the light and go to sleep or we’ll never get up in the morning,’ Laura instructed. ‘It’s after one and I’m going to have a nice horizontal dream
with Steve McQueen. Good night, Cassie.’

‘’Night, Laura,’ smiled Cassie as she switched out the light.

Sitting in the library yawning the following morning, Cassie sighed. It had taken her ages to get to sleep. To tell the truth she was still smarting over Andy Callan’s
betrayal of her. She had thought things were good between them. They got on great and enjoyed the same things, and even though she wouldn’t let him do much more than kiss her, he had seemed
happy enough until little tart Atkins had set her eye on him and he had gone running. Cassie had to admit that her pride was well and truly bruised. It had been hard going to the last two discos to
watch the pair of them dancing, wrapped around each other. But she had held her head high and pretended she was having a good time and Laura and Aileen and the rest of the gang had been most
supportive. Cassie knew that Denise would sooner or later set her eye on someone else and Andy would be dropped. Denise was notorious for doing that to guys. She was the
femme fatale
of
Port Mahon. Well, Andy was welcome to her and she was welcome to Andy, Cassie had decided, as she tossed and turned trying to get to sleep while Laura slumbered peacefully.

She yawned again. It was so hot in the library as the thirty of them sat pretending to study under the arctic eye of Mother Perpetua. Resting her forehead on her hand, Cassie closed her eyes for
a moment. Actually, with her head bent and Laura’s tall back at the desk in front of her, Mother Perpetua couldn’t see her. Cassie settled herself more comfortably. Only an hour to go,
thank God. She could have a snooze on the train to Dublin.

‘Would you like a pillow, Catherine Jordan?’ A loud voice seemed to be coming from somewhere nearby. Cassie grunted and kept her eyes closed. She was so deliciously relaxed, she
didn’t want to wake up. She must be having a nightmare or something but she could swear Mother Perpetua was bellowing at her.

‘Wake up, you lazy lump of a girl!’ Cassie opened a bleary eye to discover that she was having no nightmare. Mother Perpetua was indeed standing over her bellowing, as the rest of
the class giggled delightedly, relieved that they were not at the centre of this new drama with the fiery nun.

‘Sorry, Mother!’ Cassie shot upright. Ahead of her she could see Laura’s shoulders shaking with laughter. Typical!

‘Do you think you are in a holiday camp? What kind of behaviour is this for a Saint Imelda’s girl? God has sent this class as a cross for me to bear,’ Mother Perpetua hissed
furiously. A smothered snort from the desk in front drew her attention.

‘Is something amusing you, Madam Quinn?’ she said, in a tone that would have terrified Hitler.

‘N . . . no, Mother.’ Laura struggled for control.

‘Kindly stand up when I speak to you,’ snapped the nun. Laura stood. Aileen O’Shaughnessy, seeing that things were getting hot, pressed the bridge of her nose, held her breath
and, a second later, there was a satisfactory spurt of blood. The class heaved a sigh of relief. Good old Aileen and her trusty nose-bleeds. They had got them out of many a tight spot.

By the time Aileen’s nose-bleed was over, the time had come for the erring class to be dismissed. Mother Perpetua was more than glad to see them go. This lot were the bane of her life, the
worst class she had encountered in thirty years of teaching. There were times she even thought they were getting the better of her. If she had not been afraid that Aileen
O’Shaughnessy’s nose would start to bleed again, she would have kept them for an hour longer as an extra punishment. Mother Perpetua did not like the sight of blood and felt a little
weak. After lunch she was going to lie in her room and take a valium. The doctor had told her she was having a troublesome menopause and had prescribed the tablets for her. Perpetua rather liked
them and allowed herself one as a treat now and again when the going got tough. Well, the going had been tough today, God knows. She might even take two!

Outside in the balmy early summer breeze 3S removed cardigans and wandered down the drive. ‘Jeepers, I thought Perpetua was going to have a blue fit. You should have heard the snores of
you, Cassie.’ Aileen shrieked with laughter.

‘I wasn’t snoring, was I?’ Cassie was aghast.

‘You sure were, honey. Great big rumbling ones!’ grinned Laura.

‘Oh crikey!’ Cassie muttered.

‘Never mind. Perpetua forgot all about it when I turned on the big gusher,’ Aileen soothed her.

‘Hey, listen! Thanks a million for making your nose bleed,’ Cassie said.

‘You’re welcome. I’ll see you Monday at the retreat.’ Aileen winked.

‘See you Monday,’ agreed the other girls as they parted at the gates of the school. Cassie and Laura went for a quick sandwich in the town and then caught the train for Dublin. They
bought Jill a bunch of flowers from a street-trader on the way from Amiens Street and when she saw them she was very touched. They took her for tea in Bewley’s and did their best to cheer her
up.