Firefly Summer (64 page)

‘There’s going to be an end to all this rambling off on
your own from now on, you’re all to be where we can keep an eye on you.’

‘That would mean being in the bar,’ Eddie was quick to protest.

‘Shut up, Eddie, not you for once.’

‘Why not?’ Eddie was outraged.

‘I meant not only you, I meant all of you. Dara, Michael, are you listening to me?’

They exchanged glances.

‘Where
do
you go anyway?’ their father persisted.

‘Here and there,’ Michael said.

‘Mainly the lodge,’ Dara lied.

‘That’s odd, your mother had a message from Miss Hayes above in the lodge asking if you could favour her with your presence for a fitting for this dress she’s making you. She hasn’t seen hair nor hide of you up there all weekend, apparently.’

‘She must have been in a different part,’ Dara mumbled.

‘Yes, it’s a huge place all right, four rooms I believe, you’d easily lose a battalion up there.’

John’s face was not amused. He hadn’t liked what Kate had reported to him. The thought of anyone making free with Dara made him feel bile rise in his throat. The fact that Dara was so obviously lying made it quite sure that Dr White’s information had been correct.

‘Where do you want us to be?’

‘Where I can call you, by the footbridge, or down by the real bridge at the end of the town.’

‘We’re not old enough for the bridge,’ Eddie said.

‘Get on with your tea, Eddie,’ John Ryan said wearily.

‘Why’s nobody interested where
I’m
going to be?’ Eddie wanted to know.

‘Do you think he suspected?’ Michael asked Grace that evening. They stood on the footbridge while Michael explained the new edict.

‘No of course not.’

‘I want to be with you, on your own. We’re not doing anything
really
wrong.’

‘We can still be together.’ Grace was soothing.

‘It’s not together with awful people about.’

‘They’re not awful people, they’re our friends.’

‘People like John Joe Conway.’ Michael was mutinous.

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Michael, you’re always imagining that he has some interest in me.’

‘Everyone’s interested in you, Grace, we know that, it’s just that John Joe is so coarse, I couldn’t bear him looking at you, touching you . . .’

‘He doesn’t touch me.’

‘Looking at you even.’

‘That’s crazy to talk like that.’

‘I am crazy about you.’ He put out his hand towards her.

‘Watch it,’ Grace said, ‘we’re in full view of the pub.’

‘This is going to be great for the rest of the summer,’ said Michael.

Olive Hayes asked Mrs Fine to be present for the fittings.

The dresses were all at the same stage – the aquamarine for Dara, a soft rosy pink for Grace and the unusual burnished copper for Maggie.

‘Don’t you have another friend, isn’t it Dr White’s
daughter who goes about with you? I could get her some material too,’ Rachel offered.

‘Jacinta. Oh, she’d love that,’ Maggie said.

‘She doesn’t deserve it,’ Dara said sternly, remembering Jacinta’s view of Mrs Fine as a mistress.

‘Come on, Dara. Don’t be mean. We’re all having a dress, why not Jacinta?’ Grace was always generous.

Rachel looked at the beautiful blonde daughter of frail Kathleen O’Neill and Patrick. She had always felt the child was withdrawn, and hostile towards her until recently. Now Grace was looking at her delightedly as if she were her closest friend.

‘Could
you
suggest it to her, Mrs Fine? We had a sort of failing out with Jacinta. Could you tell her about the dresses? It would mend things again.’

‘Oh
please
, Mrs Fine,’ Maggie asked.

‘What do
you
think, Dara? I’d need to have everyone’s views.’

‘I think Jacinta’s being silly. But Grace is right, and if
you
said it she couldn’t snarl and take offence.’

‘Right.’ Rachel was pleasant about it. ‘I’ll call at the house, I have an excuse anyway.’ It was true. Rachel wanted to ask Dr White if it would be too tiring for Kate to go on a shopping trip to Dublin with her. She felt her friend needed a break away from the pub and the worry about the new café.

‘This needs to be lifted a little here, do you think, Mrs Fine?’

Miss Hayes didn’t want to take initiatives. She held the fabric in place where she was going to put the little dart that would shape it.

The others looked at Maggie Daly’s small thin
shoulders and her little pointed breasts seen to their best advantage.

‘You look great, Maggie,’ Dara said spontaneously. ‘You look totally different to usual.’

Maggie saw only the compliment, she didn’t want to believe it. ‘You’re only saying that,’ she said.

‘Why would I say it? Doesn’t she?’

Grace was looking at her wordlessly. ‘Honestly, Maggie, it’s extraordinary, you look like a painting.’

Maggie clasped her hands together and pulled them apart in delighted embarrassment. It was as if she were clapping.

‘I’ll never be able to thank you enough, Mrs Fine, imagine there being this bit of curtain just the right colour.’

‘I know, isn’t it extraordinary!’ Rachel marvelled, thinking of the hours she had spent in the material department of Brown Thomas and Switzer’s looking for the exact shade.

‘You’re terrific, Mrs Fine,’ Grace said, delighted that Maggie was getting the Cinderella treatment.

Rachel looked at the beautiful daughter of the man she loved and knew she must not say anything that would threaten this new friendship.

‘It makes a very nice change for me to see three good-looking girls getting dressed up than to see yards and yards of wall coverings, and to work out why half the bedroom carpets are one shade and half are different when they were all meant to have come from the same batch. This is the fun bit here, I assure you.’

She mustn’t give them any hint about how it was the only bit. This and her conversations with Kate Ryan.

Why else was she in this town? She felt that she and
Patrick were miles apart. Further than they had ever been, even when they were on different sides of the ocean.

Jacinta White didn’t want a dress.

‘I don’t have to follow everyone else, be a copycat,’ she said.

‘I think you’re right. Anyway you look good in those pants.’

Jacinta looked down at her jeans and boots in surprise. ‘What?’ she said suspiciously.

‘I was never able to wear anything like that – slacks, trousers, pants, whatever you call it. My bottom was too big. I always wanted to, though.’

Jacinta would not be won so easily.

‘Oh, I haven’t much time for clothes,’ she said loftily.

‘Sensible of you. Anyway, it’s always there if you want it.’

‘Thank you, but I haven’t time for fittings and choosing and all that sort of stuff.’

Rachel saw the aching loneliness of a fifteen-year-old who had fallen out of the pack. She knew that any more persuasion would result in further refusals.

‘Maggie and Grace were saying that they wanted you to have a dress too. But don’t be dragged in if you don’t want to.’ Rachel prepared to leave.

‘I bet Dara didn’t want me to have a dress. Dara’s a pain in the neck, she thinks Tommy Leonard is her little slave. It would sicken you.’

‘I think Dara did want you to share in all these remnants, actually, and I definitely heard that she fancied Kerry O’Neill rather than Tommy Leonard.’

‘Well, she’s out of her mind fancying Kerry O’Neill, he’s far too old for her and he has girlfriends all over the place. You don’t have any material that would make jeans, do you?’

It was very ungracious.

‘No, but what I do have that might be nice is a bit of leather fringe. We could put some on your shirt and some on your boots.’

‘On the boots?’

‘Yes, isn’t there a man up in Foley’s who does shoe repairs? If we asked him nicely he could stitch some of this fringe on to the top of the boots.’

‘And you would give it to me, would you?’

‘With pleasure.’ Rachel smiled.

Fringes on her shirts and her boots, that would make Tommy Leonard sit up and wipe the smile out of Dara’s eye, Jacinta thought.

‘I’ll come along with you now and get it,’ she said in case Mrs Fine might change her mind.

Patrick was in Meagher’s with Brian Doyle organising the changes.

The place was going to be a small office and travel agency.

He would employ just one person, who would arrange tours for the guests and do any other business that Mountfern might need.

He saw Rachel coming down Bridge Street with that sulky child Jacinta, the daughter of the gloomy doctor fellow.

Patrick was about to go over to them but he stopped himself.

In front of this child they would have to behave as near-strangers. They would have to play a role.

Was it worth it? There were so many of these non conversations all day. What was the point of another? He stopped just on the doorway of the shop and turned back in again. Rachel saw him, and her heart felt cold. He had actually got to the stage of avoiding her now.

‘Kerry?’

‘Yes, Mr Hill?’

‘A word if I may?’

‘Of course.’

‘My own sons don’t listen to my advice, you probably don’t listen to your father. That’s the way things are, always have been possibly.’

Kerry held his head politely on one side, waiting for the old man to come to the point. He was working in the bar this week, and liking it. The summer business was beginning to build up and Kerry was an easy conversationalist, people got on well with him.

Dennis Hill looked at him without speaking for a few seconds.

‘That crowd who were in last night, McCann, Burns, those . . .’

‘Yes, Mr Hill?’

‘They’re not the class for this hotel. Too rough. They don’t fit.’

‘Are they barred?’

‘Of course they’re not barred. They were never here before, they came to see you. They’re from Derry.’

Kerry’s eyes narrowed slightly. The old man noticed more than he thought.

‘Yes, I did meet them outside the hotel, I thought it was good to ask them to come in and swell the numbers. But if you think they’re not the right kind of guests, I won’t encourage them here. Is that what you’d like me to do?’ The insolence was well hidden, you’d have to dig deep to find it. But it was there.

‘No, I don’t mind if they come in or not, we’re well able to move people on if they’re difficult, don’t worry about that. It’s you I’m thinking about.’

‘Me?’

‘You. They’re a rough crowd. I don’t mean their accents or the way they dress. I mean what they do.’

‘What do they do?’

‘A good question. A very good question. Nothing you could describe too well, or put down in the space on your passport where it wants to know your occupation.’

‘I think they’re in business.’

‘Yes, that’s what I think too. Mainly criminal business.’

‘Oh, Mr Hill . . .’

‘Some of it’s just on the right side of things, but only some of it and only just.’

‘So?’

‘So. I’m warning you about them. You need take no notice, you might appreciate having your card marked. You might just wish that I’d clear off and shut up.’

‘No, Mr Hill, I appreciate your advice.’

‘Which means to hell with your advice. All right, Kerry, I’ve done my duty. Now about your holidays. Would you like to take off now before we get really busy in July and August?’

Kerry got the feeling that the old man was sending him away from his new friends. He was about to make an
excuse and then he thought of Mountfern in the sunshine, and the sparkling river and the beautiful little Dara waiting like a fruit to be plucked.

‘That’s very nice of you, Mr Hill, and I’ll think about what you said.’

‘I’m sure you will, Kerry,’ Dennis Hill sighed.

Kerry went out with Tony McCann and Charlie Burns that night to play cards. He was luckier than he had been before. Or was the advice of Francis Doyle, Brian’s pisspot brother, really working? Anyway he would be going back to Mountfern with a billfold full of pound notes and fivers.

Patrick told John and Kate that young people’s lives were like a holiday camp nowadays. There was his Kerry being offered three weeks’ holiday from Hill’s hotel. Kerry was buying a car no less, imagine it. Not nineteen years of age, and he had everything he wanted.

‘Isn’t that why you killed yourself working, so that your children
could
have everything they wanted?’ Kate asked him.

‘I suppose so.’ Patrick was doubtful.

‘Well it certainly was,’ John said. ‘What else would any of us do anything for, if we didn’t have the next lot coming after us to provide for?’

‘What would you do if you hadn’t a family of children?’ Patrick asked with interest.

‘I think I’d put a pack on my back and wander off round the world talking to people about this and that, as it took my fancy.’

‘Like Papers Flynn,’ Kate scoffed.

‘I’d go further afield than Papers, but that’s what I’d do.’ John was adamant.

‘You would not!’ Kate flashed. ‘Even if he had none of us trailing out of him, he’d still stand here looking at his river.’