Eventually, the fit of weeping passed (though it threatened to kick off again every time I thought of the very sad thing that had happened in the story – even now I feel a bit tearful when I think of it). I looked around for a handkerchief to dry my eyes (and, I’m ashamed to admit, my runny nose too). But even when I’d dried myself off I felt very hot and red and tear-stained, so I went off to the bathroom to splash some cold water on my features. And as I was going down the steps to the first landing where the bathroom is, the door of the bathroom opened and who should come out but Frank!
He was carrying a candle (I am used to finding my way around our house in the dark so I hadn’t bothered bringing mine), but when he saw me looming over him on the steps he was so shocked he nearly dropped it.
‘It’s just me!’ I whispered, but as I did so it struck me that I was talking to a boy who was just wearing his pyjamas. And I was wearing nothing but a very old nightgown that used to belong to Phyllis and is now growing far too short for me. And is getting rather worn out behind.
And as the horror of this wildly inappropriate situation hit me, I remembered that I had just been sobbing my heart out under a blanket, and that my face was undoubtedly bright red, my nose was shining, my eyes were definitely puffy, and my hair looked like Lord knows what (it had been bad enough even before I went to bed). I must have looked like a little gorgon. No wonder Frank looked so startled to see me. And lest we forget, I was wearing my nightie in front of a boy and you could see a lot of my bare legs.
‘Sorry,’ he whispered. ‘I …’ But I didn’t hear what he said next, because I turned and ran back to my room (forgetful of the nightie’s worn-out behind) and plunged beneath the covers again.
I feel slightly calmer now that I have written everything down but I am sure that the embarrassment of that moment will never leave me. I caught a glimpse of myself in the glass when I rushed back into the room and I really did look a dreadful fright. Why did it have to be Frank? I wouldn’t have cared if Maggie or Mother or even Harry had seen me in such a state. How can I face Frank tomorrow, now that he has seen me looking all blotchy and puffed and wearing nothing but a too-small nightgown?! It was almost indecent. I wouldn’t be surprised if he never talks to me again. I am going to try to sleep again now but I don’t expect to sleep very well.
Tuesday, 16th July, 1912.
Dear Frances,
I wish I could tell you that I woke up this morning and was able to laugh off the incidents of last night, but unfortunately I wasn’t. In fact, the thought of going down to breakfast and sitting opposite Frank filled me with dread. Why oh why did he ever come to stay here? Back when he just called in to visit from time to time, there was no chance of him ever seeing me in my nightie with a bright red blotchy face. I couldn’t bear the thought of facing him so I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling as Julia got dressed.
‘You’d better get up,’ she said, as she left the room. ‘Harry and Frank will eat all the toast if you’re not down soon.’
I groaned as she closed the door behind her. I’d happily starve if it meant I could avoid seeing Frank. But I knew that if I didn’t go down soon, Mother would come in and order me out of bed, so I reluctantly rolled out. I put on one of my best frocks, the blue one with the nice broderie anglaise collar, and made sure my stockings were firmly in place and unlikely to go baggy about the ankles. I brushed my hair as vigorously as I could and tied a ribbon around it so it wouldn’t fall all over my face. I looked as unlike my midnight self as possible.
And yet I couldn’t bring myself to leave the room until I’d heard Frank and Harry thunder down the stairs to the dining room. (Thank goodness they were up early, I was absolutely dying to go to the loo.) I waited a moment, then hurried down to the bathroom, where I washed and looked at myself critically in the glass. I was certainly less blotchy and red-nosed than I must have looked last night, but I can’t pretend I was a raving beauty. Not that being a raving beauty is important, obviously, but Frances, you must realise quite how ridiculous and terrible I looked last night. I wished I could hide away in my room and never come out.
But then I heard Mother’s voice cry, ‘Mollie! Where are you?’
I took a deep breath and went downstairs. I tried to avoid Frank’s gaze when I entered the dining room, but I couldn’t help noticing that he looked a little flushed too. And just as I was wondering if everyone would notice the awkwardness, your postcard arrived! And very relieved I was too when Maggie brought it in to me, because it gave me something to talk about that had nothing to do with Frank. Or nightdresses. Or crying. What a lovely picture of Concord you sent, and how funny those wooden houses look. Now I know just how to imagine the March’s house in Little Women. How wonderful that you were able to see Louisa May Alcott’s house – I hope some day I’ll be able to go to America and see it for myself. I have a feeling I’ll have to wait until I’m much older, though, and can pay for it myself (how, I’m not yet sure) because there’s no chance of my family ever going abroad for a holiday. Not even to England.
When I’d shown it to everyone, including Frank (they were all jolly impressed. Harry pretended not to be, but has he ever received a postcard from America? No, he has not), I asked Father if we could go somewhere more exciting than Skerries next year.
‘More exciting than Skerries!’ he said. ‘I don’t know what you mean. Don’t you remember what happened to Peter Fitzgerald there?’
For of course when Peter Fitzgerald left Ireland to go on his adventures, he did so by swimming out into Skerries Harbour and climbing aboard a fishing boat. And he was nearly caught too, as some of his enemies pursued him in a rowing boat – but one of the seals that are always swimming in the harbour saved him by pulling him beneath the water with his jaws and dragging him to the other side of the fishing boat. This allowed him to climb aboard the boat unseen by his enemies, who all assumed he’d drowned. Harry pointed out that seals didn’t normally save people’s lives from robbers and policemen, and that they probably weren’t strong enough to drag a grown man under the water in their jaws, but Father said that this was a minor quibble and that we shouldn’t expect perfect realism in a work of fiction. Whatever that means.
Anyway, we are unlikely to have such exciting adventures in Skerries, as my father knows perfectly well, and I told him so.
‘Could we go to France?’ I said. ‘It’s not that far away, is it? And I’d like to see all the places in A Tale of Two Cities.’
But Father shook his head.
‘I’m afraid that sort of travel is just too expensive,’ he said. ‘But we’ll have a good time in Skerries all the same.’
I suppose we will, but I would love to see the world. It seems hard that I’ve never even left the country. I’m glad you can go all over the place and tell me about your travels. It’s the next best thing to going to interesting places myself.
I almost forgot about my general embarrassment while we talked about travel plans, but when the discussion was over and I was just sitting there eating my boiled egg my discomfort returned. And it got even worse when Mother turned to Frank and Harry.
‘What are you boys up to today?’
Harry shrugged his shoulders. ‘Nothing, yet. We thought we might have a game of cricket in the park with some of the fellows from school.’
‘Well, if that’s all you’ve got planned, why don’t you take Mollie and Julia to the Botanic Gardens? There’s a concert taking place there at lunchtime.’
Julia clapped her hands.
‘That sounds lovely!’
But it didn’t sound lovely to me. I wanted to avoid Frank as much as possible until he had forgotten all about the hideous vision of the night. So I was just about to make an excuse for why I couldn’t go (as you know, I am worryingly good at coming up with them), when Frank, his manner awkward, said, ‘Actually, Harry, did you forget? We told Sheridan we’d go and see his new dog.’
I was sure he was lying, and my suspicion was confirmed when Harry said, ?
??Wasn’t that tomorrow? Ow!’ He rubbed his ankle. ‘Sorry, Mother, he’s right. Sheridan’s got a puppy and we’re going to try and come up with a name for him. And,’ he added quickly, ‘we told him we’d be there at twelve. And he lives in Phibsboro.’
Mother, who clearly hadn’t noticed Frank kicking Harry under the table, said, ‘Oh well, they’ll have another concert soon.’
‘I can’t go today anyway,’ I said. ‘Nora and I have plans. Please may I be excused?’
‘You haven’t finished your toast,’ said Mother.
‘I’ll eat it.’ Harry didn’t wait for permission. He just reached across and stuffed my leftover toast into his mouth. He is as greedy as a gannet. But I didn’t care, I just wanted to get away from Frank, who had made it very clear that he didn’t want to spend time with me any more than I wanted to spend time with him. Which shouldn’t have bothered me, I suppose, but somehow it did.
I went up to my room and lay on my bed again, staring up at the ceiling and trying not to think about the embarrassment of last night. Instead, I thought about what had happened yesterday and how Mabel and Phyllis were going to help us and, miraculously, thinking of all these exciting plans really did make me feel a lot better. I wasn’t thinking of Frank at all when I heard a knock on the front door and, a moment later, Maggie’s voice calling up the stairs.
‘Mollie! Nora’s here for you.’
I went down to meet her just as Phyllis was leaving the house. She was going to meet Kathleen and Mabel to discuss all the anti-Asquith plans. As she passed Nora in the hall she looked at Nora and said, ‘Well done,’ in a very quiet voice before hurrying out of the house.
‘What did she mean by that?’ said Nora.
‘I’ll tell you in a minute,’ I said in a low voice. I showed her your postcard.
‘How I wish I were over there with her,’ Nora sighed. ‘In fact, I have terrible news for you.’
My heart sank. ‘What?’ I said. I wasn’t sure I could bear any more awfulness.
‘Grace is going to call in here on her way back from the club in a couple of hours,’ said Nora. ‘She can’t stay there all day today because some grown-up ladies are using the courts and they take precedence over the junior members. And before you say anything, I didn’t tell her to call in here. Mother said she should join me after I told her I was going to see you.’
‘Oh well,’ I said, trying to be cheerful. ‘At least we’ve got a few hours before she gets here.’
‘It gets worse,’ said Nora. ‘She’s taking her kindred spirit, the Menace, for a walk on her way back from the club. You know she’s been teaching him tricks? And she’s going to take him here!’
But even the thought of the Menace in my very own house didn’t seem too much after everything else that had been going on. In fact, now I had Nora in front of me and could tell her all, I felt genuinely excited.
‘That doesn’t matter,’ I lowered my voice to a whisper, ‘I’ve got much more thrilling news. Come up to my room.’
Once we were there and the door was firmly closed, I told her everything – all about Phyllis finding out the truth, and about Mabel’s scheme for disguising us to make sure we got into the house on Nassau Street on Thursday. Unsurprisingly, she was thrilled.
‘Disguises!’ she said. ‘Can I have a wig, do you think?’
I shook my head sadly.
‘I asked about that and they said not,’ I said. ‘But Mabel put my hair up last night and it looked awfully grown-up.’
‘Try doing mine,’ suggested Nora. ‘Just to see what it looks like.’
‘I don’t have enough pins and combs and things,’ I said.
‘Phyllis must,’ said Nora. ‘Could we …?’
She didn’t finish the question, but I knew what she meant. I also knew Phyllis would kill me if she knew we’d been ‘sneaking around’ (as she would see it) in her room. But after all, she was going to be out all morning, and as long as we put all the combs and pins back in the tin, there’s no way she’d know we’d been in there (especially given how untidy her dressing table generally is). We couldn’t spend too long at it anyway, for we’d have to be finished before Grace arrived at the house.
‘I’ll check on what Mother is up to,’ I said. I didn’t want to risk her summoning us while we were in the middle of putting up Nora’s red curls.
Mother, it turned out, was crouched on the floor in the dining room, cutting out a new frock.
‘Careful!’ she said, as soon as I came into the room. ‘Don’t step on that cotton, I don’t want to have to get it cleaned again.’
‘Who are you making the dress for?’ I said. From the pattern pieces laid out on the fabric, it looked too big for me, though you never knew. Mother is always having my new clothes made a little too big, ‘so there’s plenty of room for you to grow into.’ Not that I get too many new clothes, as you know. Practically everything I wear is a ragged old hand-me-down from Phyllis, though whenever I say this to Mother she tells me it’s nonsense and reminds me of some piffling new thing – like a ribbon – she got for me months ago.
‘It’s for me,’ said Mother. I bent over to have a closer look. ‘Careful! I had it perfectly flat, don’t touch it.’
‘Are you going to send it out to Mrs. Dunne?’ I said. She’s the dressmaker Mother pays to make quite a lot of the family clothes, especially bigger, more complicated things like dresses. Phyllis had been to see her just a week or two ago. But Mother said she wasn’t.
‘I’m making this one myself,’ she said. ‘With Phyllis going to university in October, we’re going to have to economise a little.’
I hadn’t really considered the fact that Phyllis going to college rather than trying to get a job was going to be an extra expense for Father and Mother. I’ve always known we weren’t rich – at least, not in comparison to some people, including a few girls in school who live in much bigger houses than we do and whose families have two or even four servants. But I’ve never thought that we had to worry about money. It was rather a disturbing thought, and it must have shown on my face (I don’t think I could be a spy after all, everyone seems to always know what I’m thinking) because Mother said, ‘Don’t look so worried, Moll! I’m just trying to be sensible, we’re not headed for the poorhouse yet.’
‘Yet?’ I said.
‘Or ever,’ said Mother. ‘Now go along, do, and let me cut this dress out. I want to start making it this afternoon so I can wear it when we go to your Aunt Josephine’s dinner on Thursday.’
‘What dinner?’ I asked. This was the first I’d heard of it.
‘Oh, didn’t I tell you?’ she said. ‘Your cousin Gerard is home on leave from the army so she’s having some of the family over for dinner. I was sure we told you. I definitely told Phyllis.’
I had no idea Aunt Josephine’s son was on leave. Nobody tells me anything in this family. But I didn’t want to complain about it now because I was wasting valuable Nora-hair-dressing time. And besides, it struck me that if Mother and Father are at the dinner on Thursday, I won’t have to make excuses for going out to the protest on Nassau Street. Aunt Josephine always dines early and makes her guests stay for hours and hours. So I left Mother wielding her enormous sewing scissors, the ones she still hasn’t let me touch ever since I used them on some cardboard two years ago and blunted them so much she had to get them sharpened by the knife man the next time he called round. When I got back to Phyllis’s room, I found that Nora had begun putting up her hair without me. Or at least she was trying to.
‘Nora!’ I exclaimed. ‘You’ll do yourself a mischief!’
Nora had a large comb clutched between her teeth and her arms were twisted behind her head in an attempt to fix some errant locks of red hair. I took the comb out of her mouth.
‘I think we’re going to have start all over again,’ I said.
‘Oh, all right,’ said Nora. ‘I don’t know how older girls do this on their own, do you?’
I agreed that it was a mystery and
started taking out the pins Nora had pushed into her hair, seemingly at random. I tried doing it properly, remembering what Mabel and Phyllis had done the previous evening, and eventually most of Nora’s hair was on top of her head. Nora was quite impressed.
‘I look at least seventeen,’ she said.
‘It looks a bit funny from the back,’ I admitted.
‘We’ll be wearing hats,’ said Nora, which was a good point. ‘Maybe there’s a quick way of doing it. What happens if we just pin up your plaits and you hold back the front of your hair?’
‘Let’s try it and see,’ I said. Of course, I couldn’t have gone out holding my hair back with my plaits pinned up. But just having my hair pulled up rather than flowing down to my shoulders did, undeniably, make me look like a grown-up lady. Or almost a grown-up. Nora and I stared at our reflections in the dressing-table mirror for a moment. You couldn’t see our short skirts so in our neat blouses we might as well have been wearing proper ladies’ clothes.
‘Gosh,’ said Nora. She turned her head to get a better view. ‘Is this what we’ll look like when we go to college?’
‘I hope we’ve learned to do our hair a bit more neatly by then,’ I said. ‘And we’ll be wearing long skirts, of course.’
Nora glanced down at her stockinged legs below her shin-length blue skirt.
‘It does seem a bit of a shame,’ she said, ‘that we’ll be so weighed down when we’re older. I mean with long skirts and corsets and things.’
‘Maybe we won’t be,’ I said. ‘You know there are quite a few ladies who don’t believe in corsets.’
‘What do they wear instead?’ said Nora. ‘Under their clothes, I mean.’
I had to admit I don’t know. They must wear something to hold themselves up.
‘Maybe they’ve invented some other sort of underwear?’ I said. ‘Phyllis told me there are some who think we should be allowed to wear trousers, too.’
‘Trousers!’ Nora was shocked.