Foreign Affairs (14 page)

‘I suppose so,’ Brenda said sulkily, feeling very hard done by. She wanted to make her mother feel guilty for upsetting her party by insisting on going into Temple Street in the
afternoon.

‘Run up and put on your new dress and brush your hair and give Sean’s hair a brush while I change the baby’s nappy.’

‘Ah Mammy, do I have to brush his hair, he always yells?’ Brenda pouted. ‘And anyway it’s my birthday. No-one has to do anything on their birthday. That’s the
rule.’

‘Oh go on,’ her mother sighed. ‘I’ll do it myself.’

Brenda gave a martyred sniff. Now she was being made to feel guilty. It was always the same, she fumed as she headed up to the bedroom she shared with Jennifer. It was such a nuisance being the
oldest. She always had to help out with the baby, and Sean, and of course Jennifer. Jennifer who was always sick with that kidney thing and ended up in hospital getting loads of fuss made of her.
Brenda plonked herself down on the bed and gave a deep sigh. She longed to break an arm or a leg or an ankle or a wrist, just so she could land herself in hospital and get tons of sympathy.
She’d never been in hospital in her life. Except when she was born, of course, and that didn’t count because she couldn’t remember it. Her friend Kathy was in the same boat. She
was the eldest too and had to look after her younger brothers and sisters too. She was even worse off than Brenda. There were five younger than Kathy in her family.

She gave another deep sigh. She’d been really looking forward to her eighth birthday for ages. After much pleading and promises that she’d never ask for anything else again as long
as she lived, her mother had finally agreed to have a party. Brenda had been thrilled skinny. She’d told everybody on the street about the forthcoming party weeks in advance. In a way she was
sorry she was on her school holidays. She would have liked the whole class to know that she was having a party. Some of her friends on the street were in her class but she would have liked Cora
Delahunty, who was a real snooty show-off, to know. Cora went to acting and dancing classes and could recite the entire alphabet without drawing a breath. She really thought she was
IT
and
she pranced around in skirts so short that you could see her knickers. Of course, Cora didn’t wear navy or plain white cotton knickers like everyone else. Oh no, hers were pink or blue frilly
things. She was always dressed to the nines.

Cora Delahunty was really sly too. Brenda frowned thinking of her classmate’s slyness. The great craze this year at school had been collecting beads. Practically every girl, from first
class to sixth class, had a collection of beads and the thing was to swap for a particular bead you might fancy. Well of course Madame Delahunty had
the
collection but Brenda had a
beautiful set of amber glass beads that her gran had given her and Cora asked her would she like to swap one for one of Cora’s. Brenda said no at first but Cora was not one to give up easily
and she was ever so attentive to Brenda that week in school. Playing with her, nattering her, linking her in the playground. Finally Brenda succumbed and agreed to swap for a pretty mother-of-pearl
bead. Cora was overjoyed that she’d at last got the bead she wanted. Beaming, she dropped her own bead into Brenda’s box. It was only later that Brenda noticed a dirty off-white plastic
bead in her collection. She just couldn’t believe that Cora had played such a dirty trick on her. But she had. No mother-of-pearl type bead reposed in Brenda’s box. Of course, Cora
denied outright that she hadn’t given the mother-of-pearl bead to her classmate and accused Brenda of losing it. After that, there was no more flattery, no more linking in the yard. In fact
Cora dropped Brenda like a hot potato. Secretly Brenda was devastated. She had very much enjoyed being part of Cora’s much-envied entourage. She’d even gone to tea at Cora’s,
which was a treat reserved for only the chosen few. Kathy and the others who sat in Brenda’s row at school had been deeply envious. Now Cora was ignoring her as if she didn’t exist. It
was extremely galling.

If she’d been at school, Cora would have heard all about the party and, being Cora, would be mad to go to it so she could do her fancy dancing and recitations and impress everybody. Brenda
would’ve had the pleasure of keeping her on tenterhooks as to whether or not she was going to get an invitation. That revenge would have been sweet. But, Brenda reflected, the way things were
going, maybe it was just as well Cora didn’t know about the party. Having to delay it while they all went into Temple Street was nothing to boast about. With another sigh, Brenda went to put
her party dress on.

‘Ah Gerard!’ Kit exclaimed in exasperation as she heard her one-year-old son performing in the clean nappy she had just put on him. If she didn’t get a move
on, they’d miss the two o’clock bus from the terminus, and it would be all hours before they got into the hospital. God knows she could do without Brenda’s party today, she mused
as she unfastened her son’s nappy and wiped his dirty bum. It was unfortunate that poor Jennifer’s kidney infection had been such a bad one. The poor child was as sick as a dog and
they’d decided to keep her in until her temperature was normal. It had been a good while since she’d had that old infection, the doctors had told Kit that she would grow out of
them.

The sooner the better, Kit thought tiredly as she put her squalling infant back in his pram and went in search of Sean, his three-year-old brother. Sean, as usual, did not want his hair brushed
and a yelling match ensued. By the time she had him cleaned up she was fit to be tied. She was just coming up to her period and she was like a demon. She had one of those awful hormony headaches
that made her feel as if her brains were going to explode out of her head. Her stomach was horribly bloated, she felt queasy and she wanted to scream at the children. It was such an effort to keep
her temper under control. More than anything, Kit would have loved to go up to bed, pull the curtains, and lie in the soothing darkness and shut out the world for an hour even. Well at least she
wasn’t pregnant, she thought wryly as she ran a comb through her hair and traced a coral lipstick across her lips.

Her mother-in-law was ailing too. Kit usually called in to do a bit of cleaning for her, or make the tea. Today, with the party and everything, she’d have to skip it. Mrs Myles
wouldn’t mind but no doubt that old rip of a husband of hers, Dan, would have a face on him because his tea wasn’t on the table.

Kit’s mouth tightened at the thought of her father-in-law. She couldn’t stand him. He was a right old bully. His word was law, as far as he was concerned. He even had the nerve to
try and tell her what to do and she a grown woman with four children. Jim allowed his father to treat him as if he was a child. It infuriated Kit and they often rowed about it. His own daughter
would have nothing to do with him and Kit couldn’t really blame her. He had ordered her not to marry her boyfriend or, if she did, never to darken his door again. The poor girl had been in
bits. Kit had had a terrible time trying to persuade her to marry John, who was a lovely chap. He was an artist. In Dan’s eyes this was most definitely not a proper job. No daughter of his
was going to marry a layabout who couldn’t afford to keep her, he ranted and raved. In the end, there’d been a huge row. Ellen left home and went to live with Kit and Jim. It was from
their house she had finally married her artist. Jim gave her away. Kit was her matron-of-honour and the only other guests were John’s family. Mrs Myles was heartbroken not to be at the
wedding of her only daughter, and never got over it. Her husband’s hold on her was strong and he’d issued an edict that she was never to see or speak to her daughter again.

‘Nonsense,’ Kit fumed. ‘Just let me know when you’re dropping in for a cup of tea and a chat and I’ll arrange for Ellen to be here. He’ll never know,’
Kit instructed her mother-in-law. The first time Mrs Myles met her daughter at Kit’s she’d been a nervous wreck, even though her husband had been at work in the factory where he was a
foreman, on the other side of the city. Gradually, over the weeks and months, she’d begun to relax until she got to the stage where she really enjoyed the illicit meetings. She liked getting
the better of her husband for the first time in years of marriage, she confided one day as she and Kit washed up after their very enjoyable afternoon tea. Kit loved to see that sparkle of
excitement in her mother-in-law’s eyes when she arrived on her weekly visit. She was very fond of Mrs Myles and she couldn’t fathom how she’d lived with Dan and his overbearing
ways all these years. Dan, who couldn’t conceive of the notion of his wife flouting his authority, never discovered the secret meetings. They went on over the years, and Mrs Myles had the joy
of holding Ellen’s babies in her arms and watching them grow into two happy-go-lucky children.

Then she’d got sick and, as her illness took hold, her visits became less frequent until finally she became too sick to leave her own house. Ellen went home a few times during the
afternoons when her father was sure to be at work but Mrs Myles had been so edgy and nervous about it she stopped going. Looking at her mother-in-law, who was visibly failing, Kit knew she
wasn’t going to last much longer. Well by God, when she died, that was the last Dan Myles would see of her. She’d never set foot in his house again. Jim could go and see his father if
he wished. That was up to him. But she wanted to have nothing to do with him. The mean old bastard. He would have let his wife die without seeing her daughter and grandchildren. Kit hoped
he’d rot in hell.

Somehow or another she’d get a chance to pop round and visit her mother-in-law, she decided as she finally got her offspring out the front door. Rounding the corner at the end of the
street, Kit almost wept with frustration as she saw the No. 13 bus disappear down St Pappin’s Road.

Brenda was having a splendid time. Auntie Ellen and Mammy had made loads of lovely sandwiches. There were egg ones, her favourite. And banana, and chicken and ham roll. There
was lovely ice cream and jelly and Perri crisps and jelly babies and lemonade. It was a
brilliant
party. Everybody was saying so. Her cousins Pamela and Susan were there and all her
friends on the street and they were having a picnic in the back garden. She’d got some lovely presents too. Even Jennifer had drawn her a card and sung
Happy Birthday
to her in the
hospital. Then she’d started bawling crying when they were leaving. Brenda had seen her mother crying too as they walked down the stairs of the hospital, with Jennifer’s wails following
them. It had given Brenda an awful shock to see her mother with tears sliding down her cheeks as they left Temple Street. She’d felt a bit lonely and scared. She’d never seen her mammy
crying before. She was crying because she was sad leaving Jennifer. Jennifer was her pet, Brenda just knew it and it made her feel most unhappy.

She’d only stopped feeling unhappy when they’d finally got home and the party guests had started arriving. Then she’d started to feel special again. And when her mammy brought
them all inside and lit the eight candles on the cake and everybody had sung
Happy Birthday
and
For She’s a Jolly Good Fellow
, she felt so excited and happy. She blew out
the candles and everybody cheered and her mother put her arms around her and hugged her and told her she was very proud of her. Then her daddy came in from work and made them light the candles
again so he could sing
Happy Birthday
to her and she felt like bursting with pride. Then they all played blind man’s buff and while they were in the middle of it, there was a knock
at the front door. Brenda was the nearest so she opened it. Standing on the step, wearing the frilliest dress Brenda had ever seen, was Cora Delahunty. Standing two paces behind her was
Cora’s best friend, Claire Regan. She too was wearing a posh dress, although it wasn’t quite as frilly as Cora’s.

‘Hello Brenda,’ Cora said, giving her sweetest smile.

‘Hello,’ Brenda responded guardedly. What was Miss Cora up to? Then it dawned on her. Of course. Cora had found out about the party and had decided it was time to be friends so she
could get in.

‘Would you like to swap some beads?’ Cora held out her box. ‘You can have whatever one you like.’ She smiled ingratiatingly.

Intense happiness flooded through Brenda as she stood at her front door watching Cora demean herself. Suddenly all the hurt and frustration of being dropped like a hot potato was worth it. Just
for this moment.

‘No thank you, Cora,’ she said cordially as the noise from the sitting-room reached a climax because her father had been caught and a crowd of cheering guests had launched themselves
upon him.

‘I can’t stop to swap beads now,’ she explained ever so politely. ‘It’s my birthday, you see, and I’m having a party.’ Then Brenda closed the door,
leaving Cora and her attendant in tears of rage. It was the best birthday party of her entire life, she thought, admiring herself in the mirror before rejoining her guests. She felt very grown-up.
When she went to secondary school she’d be able to have boys at her party.
That
was something to look forward to.

Chapter Twelve

‘Will you come on, we’re going to be late,’ Jennifer heard her sister yell up the stairs. She threw her eyes up to heaven. That Brenda, she was always making
a fuss about something.

‘It’s fine, Mammy,’ she said hastily to her mother, who was arranging her Holy Communion veil on her head.

‘Brenda can wait a minute or two, you’ve loads of time,’ Kit said calmly.

‘Ooh Mammy, you know her,’ Jennifer groaned. ‘She always likes to be early.’

‘Go on, go on, here, don’t forget your basket.’ Kit handed her the basket filled to the brim with rose petals and apple blossom. Jennifer was a flower girl in the Corpus
Christi procession and Brenda and Kathy, who were prefects in the sodality, were in charge of the flower girls.

Jennifer raced down the stairs trying not to let any of the precious petals escape from the basket. It was a great honour to be a flower girl. All the Holy Communion class and several girls out
of each of the other classes had been chosen specially. Beth and herself and Norma Murray and Suzy Doherty were the girls picked out of her class.