Woman of the House Read online

  She wished that Dada could come back and straighten it all out Everything was upside down since he went He had kept everything straight, and you could talk to Dada and he understood. Why did he have to die? God was mean to take him away. If he wanted somebody, why did he not take Nana Lehane. She had heard Nana herself saying that and it had surprised her. But maybe Nana was right. Uncle Mark could manage without Nana, but they could not manage without Dada. They had been in a terrible mess at the beginning before Aunty Kate came back, but now they were worse than ever again. She prayed to him every night but he did not seem to be listening. Where was he anyway? she wondered for the hundredth time since he had died. Surely if he could hear her he would not let Mossgrove be sold. Maybe nobody would buy it. If the neighbours like the Nolans knew that they did not want to sell, maybe nobody might buy, but then that would not stop the Conways. Nothing could stop the Conways.

  She looked around her familiar room with the sloping ceiling and the window above the farmyard. She sat up in bed to look out and she saw Jack bringing a bucket of milk out from the stalls and pouring it in over the top of the churn. She could even see the white strainer cloth that Mom had tied around the top of the churn. If she lent sideways and hung out over the side of her bed, she could look out through the other window and down over the valley to the river and see Conways’ farm on the hill opposite. But she did not want to look out that window this morning. Instead she raised her eyes to the picture of St Theresa above her bed. It had been Nana Nellie’s picture and she had called it the Little Flower. Nora liked looking at her because she looked calm and serene, as if she had no worries.

  Mom had wanted to put Nana Nellie’s pictures into the back of the old press in the landing, but Dad had asked herself and Peter if they wanted to hang any of them in their rooms and she had taken the Little Flower. When Dad had suggested that they give the rest of them to Aunty Kate, Mom had frowned at him and said “they belong here”, and that had been the last she had ever seen of the pictures.

  She wondered if the Little Flower ever had problems like she had. Then she looked over at the Child of Prague on top of the orange crate. He always looked happy, as if he did not have a care in the world, and yet look what happened to him. On the back of the door her green coat was hanging under an old coat to keep the dust off it. Mom had got it cleaned a few weeks ago, and it was as good now as it had been the night that she had finished making it. That night seemed like a long time ago.

  She had felt like a princess that night in her bright green coat, and Mom had been so pleased. When Dada came in he had pretended not to know her, she looked so grand, and he had told Mom that she was a great woman. Mom was always delighted when Dada praised her. She loved the coat, and even though Kitty Conway had mocked it and made her feel bad about it for a while, she had got over that and now she loved it again. She did not wear it now because she wore the black coat that Nana had so miraculously produced the day of the funeral. But on Sundays after coming home from mass she sometimes put it on and walked around the room in it, and if she closed her eyes she could hear Dada’s voice saying, “I don’t know this grand stranger.”

  Mom said that she could wear the green coat again when they came out of mourning for Dada.

  “Nora, will you get out of bed, you lazy lump, or we’ll be late for school,” Peter burst in the door, his face full of annoyance that she was still inside in bed.

  “Pete, I don’t want to go today,” she protested tearfully; “they’ll be all asking questions and I’ll hate it.”

  “What about me?” he demanded. “Won’t it be the same for me?”

  “I know,” she agreed, “but you won’t have…”

  “Yea, yea, Kitty Conway,” he said impatiently, “but I’ll have the lads lording it over me. Can you imagine what Rory Conway will be like?”

  “But you’re bigger than me.”

  “Listen, Norry,” he advised, “it will be easier if you go today because if you don’t, tomorrow will be harder.”

  “I suppose you’re right as usual,” she agreed, reluctantly turning back the bedclothes and sliding on to the floor.

  “Move fast now,” Peter told her, “because if we’re late ’twill look as if we’re afraid to come, and if we’re early we’ll have the Nolans with us.”

  “Right, I’ll be down in two secs,” Nora told him, whipping off her nightdress and starting to drag on her clothes in high speed.

  Later they walked together silently up the boreen, each busy with their own imaginings of the day ahead.

  “What does she want to sell at all for?” Peter burst out angrily. “It’s not fair.”

  “I know,” Nora sighed. Then, thinking of Kitty Conway, she added, “I wish that we were coming home.”

  “Norry, you’re a great one for wishing things away, but that’s no good.”

  “Makes me feel better, to think that in a few hours time we’ll be walking down this boreen and that the first day will be over.”

  “Today is going to be the worst all right,” Peter agreed, “and do you know something: they’ll all be asking where are we going and what are we going to be doing, and I haven’t a clue. Isn’t that stupid?”

  “Could we pretend?” Nora asked.

  “Pretend what?” Peter demanded.

  “Pretend that we know but that we can’t say,” Nora suggested, brightening up.

  “Norry, will you have a grain of sense – they’d know that we were only bluffing.”

  “Well, it was only an idea.”

  “And a stupid one,” he told her, closing the gate behind them.

  As he heard the rattle of the gate Toby came bounding across Jack’s yard and put his head out between the bars of the gate to lick their hands in delight.

  “I’ll miss Toby if we won’t be coming in and out this gate,” Nora said mournfully.

  “What about Bran?” Peter asked.

  “I’d die after Bran,” she told him, “but surely we’d take Bran with us?”

  “Depends where we’re going,” Peter said darkly.

  “’Tis true for Kitty Conway,” Nora said tearfully; “we’ll be out on the road like the tinkers.”

  “Nora, will you shut up! We won’t be out on the road like the tinkers.”

  “Do you think that Aunty Kate might try to stop Mom from selling?” Nora asked hopefully.

  “She doesn’t seem to be making much of an effort so far,” Peter said bitterly. “She never even called after seeing it in the paper.”

  “She called to Jack,” Nora said.

  “Did she?” Peter asked eagerly. “Is she going to do anything?”

  “She’s calling some day while we are at school.”

  “That’s because she’s expecting a row and she doesn’t want us to hear,” Peter decided.

  “I never thought of that,” said Nora.

  “But of course there will be a row: Mom wanting to sell and Aunt Kate trying to stop her.”

  “I hope that she can stop Mom.”

  “I doubt it.”

  They walked along the road beside Ned’s young beeches.

  “The leaves are out on Dada’s trees,” Nora said with excitement.

  “They’re out with a bit,” Peter said dismissively.

  “I know, but they look all there this morning,” Nora said, and Peter laughed. “They’re sort of big enough to move in the breeze, aren’t they?”

  Just then they heard a shout from behind and looked back to see the Nolans running to catch up with them. Rosie arrived puffing with exertion.

  “You said that you’d be early,” Jeremy told Peter, “and you meant it.”

  “He nearly rushed me off my feet,” Rosie protested.

  “The exercise is good for you,” Peter told her.

  “Cheek of you, Peter Phelan,” she said, sticking out her tongue at him. “I could beat you in a race any day.”

  “Right,” said Peter, “race you to Sarah Jones’s gate.” And the two of them took off, sch
ool sacks flying behind them.

  “I hope she’ll beat him,” Nora said with feeling.

  “Are you and Peter having a fight?” Jeremy asked in surprise.

  “He won’t talk since the thing in the paper and he’s awful snappy,” Nora told him.

  “He was down with me on Saturday and we talked of nothing else,” Jeremy told her.

  “Well, he won’t talk to me about it,” Nora declared.

  “That’s because he’s afraid you’d cry,” Jeremy told her.

  “I would too,” she admitted.

  “Crying is no good Nora,” he said, “and whatever you do, don’t cry in front of the Conways today.”

  “So you know about the Conways buying Mossgrove as well,” Nora said.

  “Everybody in Kilmeen knows that; the Conways love boasting. Although my father says that normally when people are buying land, they tell nobody, but then the Conways are not normal.”

  “I hate the thought of Kitty Conway sleeping in my room,” Nora told him sadly. Jeremy was good to listen and she could tell him about most things that bothered her.

  “It might never happen,” he assured her; “my father says that land is never sold until you have the money in the bank, and ye’re a long ways from that yet.”

  “Will you fight the Conways with Peter today if they have a row?” she asked him.

  “Of course,” he said, “Peter and I always fight the Conways together, but other times we can be friends with them too.”

  “Kitty and I are never friends,” she told him.

  “Rosie says that she really has it in for you.”

  “And I never did a thing to her,” Nora told him as they arrived at Sarah Jones’s gate where Rosie and Peter were sitting on the wall.

  “Who won?” Nora asked.

  “Do you mean to say that you weren’t watching?” Rosie demanded.

  “I beat her sick,” Peter asserted.

  “You did not, Peter Phelan,” Rosie declared. “I beat you with inches to spare.”

  “It was only an old race, and you started ahead of me anyway,” Peter told her.

  “Come on, Peter,” Jeremy said, “we’ll go on ahead because the two of them are too slow for us.”

  “We could pass ye out if we wanted to,” Rosie called after them, “but we have important things to discuss.”

  “Oh, we have indeed,” Nora told her as the two boys went ahead. “I’m dreading Kitty Conway today – she’s bound to get me in a corner at some stage.”

  “Now, you listen to me, Nora,” Rosie instructed, “you will have to face up to Kitty Conway and stop being afraid of her.”

  “Look what happened the last time I faced up to her – I nearly killed her.”

  “She got what she deserved, and since then you’ve been avoiding her, so from today on no more avoiding. Just stand your ground.”

  “Rosie, today is going to be hard enough without taking on Kitty Conway as well.”

  “It’s your chance not to back down. Once she sees that she’ll leave you alone,” Rosie instructed with an air of authority; then, softening a little at the look on Nora’s face, she finished: “I’ll be there as well to back you up if you need me, but it would be better if you did it on your own.”

  “But Rosie, I might not be coming to school here much longer anyway,” Nora protested.

  “You will. My mother says that Mossgrove will only be sold over Kate’s dead body, whatever that means exactly. But it sounds as if it might not be sold after all.”

  “Oh, wouldn’t it be just great,” Nora breathed. “If only that could happen I’d never again be lazy, and I’d be out of bed like a shot every morning.”

  “My mother says that your mother and Kate never got on and that Kate will tear strips off her about Mossgrove.”

  “Oh, Aunty Kate wouldn’t do that,” Nora protested, “and I wouldn’t want Mom to be hurt.”

  “Oh Nora! My mother only meant that Kate would argue with her about not selling Mossgrove.”

  “Oh, that would be all right,” Nora said in a relieved tone.

  They arrived at the school to find that the yard was empty and everybody had gone in.

  “Oh, we were too slow,” Nora said in dismay; “the boys were right.”

  “We’re not late,” Rosie said firmly; “we were often later than this.”

  Nora knew that this was true, but she did not want to be last in today so that they’d be all looking at her. Rosie strode in ahead of her, and as Nora followed her to the front seat Miss Buckley turned around with a frown on her face.

  “Nora Phelan, you can go back to your old seat now,” she said. “I think that you’ve learnt your lesson.”

  Nora could hardly believe her ears. How could this be happening to her today of all days? She slouched over to the back seat and perched on the very edge of it, as far away from Kitty Conway as she possibly could. Kitty looked straight ahead and gave no reaction to Nora’s return. All morning Kitty never looked in her direction and Nora began to wonder if she were invisible. Kitty never acknowledged her return one way or another. Nora was amazed and relieved, but she was afraid to relax as she thought apprehensively that there was a long day ahead.

  At the break, when the rest of the children gathered around curiously asking questions, Kitty sat in the far corner of the playground eating her lunch by herself.

  Rosie asked, “Did you say something to Kitty?”

  “No, nothing,” Nora told her, “but she’s never said a word all morning. I can’t believe it.”

  “What’s come over her?” Rosie wondered.

  “Don’t know,” Nora said, “but the sewing class is this evening. She’ll murder me then.”

  When the tin boxes were distributed along the desks they all took out their pieces of sewing and knitting. Nora was endeavouring to turn the heel of a sock, a complicated procedure which required all her concentration. Kitty had a grubby piece of pleated cotton which she was trying to top-stitch as neatly as possible. Both kept their heads down, intent on their work, and when the girl at the other side of Kitty attempted to chat to her she was ignored.

  What’s come over Kitty, Nora wondered, but she was afraid to say anything in case she might trigger off the usual torrent of criticism and abuse. She decided that she would leave well alone, keep her mouth shut and give all her attention to her knitting.

  At first she thought that she imagined the whisper beside her, but then it came again a little louder.

  “Your Aunty Kate is very nice,” Kitty whispered.

  Nora was so surprised that the knitting almost dropped from her hands. Kitty was looking at her with such a changed expression on her face that she looked like a different person.

  “When did you meet her?” Nora asked, gathering her wits about her.

  “She calls to our house to look after Nana’s leg,” Kitty told her, “and I’m helping her because I sleep in my Nana’s room now, in case she would want something at night.”

  Nora thought of big, heavy Mrs Conway who always smelt as if she needed a knickers change, and thought that she would not like to share a room with her. But she was Kitty’s Nana, so she was fond of her, and that was different.

  Nora was not sure what to say next. This new Kitty was such a change from the old one that she was afraid that any minute she would dissolve and the old one slip back into her place. But a bigger surprise was yet to come.

  “I hope that your mother won’t sell Mossgrove,” Kitty said.

  “But your father wants to buy it,” Nora exclaimed.

  “I know,” Kitty said, “but I hope he wont get it.”

  “So he won’t bid for it?” Nora said hopefully.

  “Oh, he’ll bid all right,” Kitty said bitterly.

  Nora was finding the conversation a bit confusing, but there was no doubt but that Kitty had changed towards her and it had something to do with Aunty Kate. Kitty, who had always looked at her with such dislike, was now actually smiling at her. Nora felt a
great sense of relief: she had never wanted to have Kitty as an enemy, but Kitty had been hell bent in that direction. Now, for some reason, it was all changed, and Nora wanted to keep it that way.

  “Will we be friends from now on, so, Kitty?” she asked.

  “I’d like that,” Kitty told her quietly.

  “It was like a miracle,” Nora told Rosie later as they walked home together. “She wanted to be friends and that was it.”

  “When I looked behind me in school I could see the two of you talking and smiling and I could hardly believe my eyes,” Rosie told her.

  “It must have been Dada,” Nora decided. “No one else could have sorted all that out so well. This morning I had my doubts about him, but now I’m sure again. Now I have only one more job for him and this is the big one. He must stop Mom from selling Mossgrove.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  THE DISPENSARY WAS always quiet on Tuesday mornings. People seemed to find Monday difficult, but by Tuesday they had decided that they were sufficiently recovered to face the week. So Kate decided that she would go to Mossgrove that Tuesday morning. The children would be in school, Jack would be at the creamery and Davy would be busy with the yard jobs. There would be nobody in the house but Martha. She felt that for the first time she would be facing Martha with no fetters attached. But she did not relish the thought of confronting her. The stakes were high: the future of Mossgrove.

  She knew that Jack and the children, and even Davy, were depending on her. So she had to get it right, or at least as right as possible. It might make little difference to Martha’s decision in the end. But at least she wanted to come out of it feeling that she had done her best and not lost her head as she had done with the old P.P. David, despite his disappointment, had been very gracious about the whole thing. But then she would not have expected anything else from David: he was his father’s son in every way. Sarah had listened grim-faced while she had related the story, and then she had told told her, “There is no doubt about it, but you’re not Edward Phelan’s granddaughter for nothing.”

  When she arrived at the gate of Mossgrove she decided to leave her bike against Jack’s wall and walk down the short boreen. The walk would help to steady her nerves. The sun warmed her face and lit up the entire countryside. Some of the brown ploughed fields were fringed around by whitethorn hedges, and on the steep hill across the river the grass was spattered with splashes of yellow furze. On the broad ditch beside her the young leaves swayed in the breeze and the birds, though in a fever of nest building, still took time to sing. It should be a good day to be alive, she thought, no matter what the problems.