I would love to hear what American girls are wearing, too – I bet they have lots of fashions that we haven’t seen yet. And speaking of fashion, I got a jolly nice letter from Stella too, and she is alleviating her boredom by making what she says is a very impressive dressing gown with quilted lapels, which she is sure will dazzle all the other boarders when she returns.
Anyway, I am in rather a good mood and so is Nora. Nora is of course happy because Grace has gone. I called around this morning, and Nora answered the door herself.
‘Oh, thank goodness it’s you,’ she said.
‘Is everything all right?” I asked. ‘You look a bit …’
‘I’m still worried something could happen to stop her going home,’ whispered Nora. ‘Like another telegram saying someone else had come down with scarlet fever. Or mumps. Or consumption.’
‘You’re being ridiculous,’ I said, walking into the hall. ‘Where is Grace?’
‘In there.’ Nora pointed towards her drawing room, the door of which stood ajar. ‘Bidding farewell to her kindred spirit.’
I peered in and saw Grace sitting on the Cantwells’ sofa with the Menace sitting on her knee. She had her arms around him. Mrs. Sheffield was sitting opposite with Mrs. Cantwell, looking fondly at the pair of them.
‘Don’t worry, Grace,’ Mrs. Sheffield was saying. ‘You can call around and see him after every tennis practice. And when you’re back at school you can call over and walk him. We’re not far away from Eccles Street, you know.’
I withdrew silently from the doorway. Grace looked genuinely bereft at the prospect of saying goodbye to that dreadful dog, so it felt rude to pry. I gently closed the door.
‘You must feel a bit sorry for her,’ I said to Nora.
‘I suppose so.’ Nora shrugged her shoulders. ‘But I’m mostly glad she’s going. Even if she did do the right thing in the end.’
We went up to Nora’s room, where Grace’s things had already been packed away into a suitcase. The camp bed on which Nora had been sleeping for the previous few weeks was folded up and propped against the wall.
‘What’s wrong with you?’ asked Nora, when we were sitting on her bed.
‘What do you mean?’ I was genuinely confused by her question.
‘You look very … distracted, I suppose,’ said Nora.
‘I’m not really,’ I said. I hadn’t wanted to tell her about the Frank incident at all, mostly because I knew she would probably say very annoying things about it. But it really was weighing on my mind. ‘But there’s something.’
And I told her all. And to my surprise, she didn’t make any jokes, or shriek. She just looked at me with very wide eyes and said, ‘Oh dear. But I’m sure you didn’t look that bad.’
‘I looked unhinged,’ I said. ‘I saw myself in the bathroom mirror. I was bright red in the face and my hair was all over the place. I hadn’t tied it into plaits. AND I was wearing that old nightie.’
‘The short one with the worn out behind?’ Nora couldn’t conceal her horror.
I nodded miserably. ‘And it’s been so awkward between us ever since,’ I said. ‘I haven’t had much time to think about it over the last few days because we’ve been so busy. But he’s going home today and things are still so odd. And he might never want to come back to our house if things are going to be strange between himself and his friend’s sister.’
‘You must say something,’ said Nora firmly. ‘Before he goes.’
‘But what?’ I said.
‘You’ve got to grab the bull by the horns,’ said Nora. ‘Just tell him you’re sorry things are awkward and tell him you’d like to forget all about it. After all, what have you got to lose? Things are bad between you already.’
It was a jolly good point, and I was just about to tell Nora so when Grace came in. Her eyes were a little red after her farewell to the Menace. I felt sorry for her, but I had a feeling that she wouldn’t be in the mood for sympathy from me.
‘The cab’s here,’ she said, a little stiffly. She picked up her suitcase.
‘Well,’ said Nora. ‘Goodbye, Grace.’ She paused for a moment. ‘Sorry about Barnaby. Having to say goodbye to him, I mean.’
Grace nodded and blinked but didn’t say anything. For a moment I wondered if she were trying not to cry.
‘Goodbye,’ I said. ‘And, well, see you on Saturday. For the dog show.’
‘Yes,’ said Grace. And then she walked out of the room, hopefully (as far as Nora was concerned) never to stay there again, and closed the door behind her.
Nora and I looked at each other.
‘I thought,’ said Nora, ‘that I’d feel thrilled when she was gone.’
‘And don’t you?’ I said.
Nora sighed. ‘I just feel rather flat.’
‘Oh well,’ I said. ‘If you’re missing her, you can have a happy reunion at the tennis-club fête and invite her to come back for another visit.’
‘I certainly wouldn’t go that far,’ said Nora, throwing a pillow at me (which luckily missed).
On my way home later that morning, I thought about Nora’s advice. I knew she was right. In a few hours, Frank would be gone. And I couldn’t let him go without knowing that I, at least, had tried to make things all right between us. I had to say something. So as soon as I got home, I asked Maggie where Frank and Harry were.
‘Your brother’s out in the garden with a bicycle,’ she said. ‘And his friend is up in his room, packing.’
‘With a bicycle!’ I was so surprised to hear that Harry had acquired a bicycle – which he has wanted for as long as I can remember – I didn’t even think about Frank for a moment. ‘Where did he get hold of that? It’s not his birthday for ages, and Father said he wasn’t going to get him one anyway.’
‘It belongs to some friend of his from school,’ said Maggie. ‘He’s going on holiday so he’s lent the bicycle to Harry while he’s away.’ She smiled at me. ‘Maybe he’ll let you have a go of it.’
I hoped he would, though it didn’t seem likely. I thanked Maggie, who returned to the kitchen, and then headed up the stairs to confront Frank. But just as I reached the landing, the door of Harry’s room opened, and Frank appeared.
‘Oh!’ he said. ‘I was actually just coming to look for you.’
‘Oh yes?’ I said, as nonchalantly as I could.
‘Yes.’ He pushed back a lock of hair that had fallen over his eyes. ‘Can I talk to you for a minute?’
And suddenly I was quite sure that he was going to tell me he would never be able to look me in the face again, and that he thought it was better if he never came over to our house again. And I didn’t want to have any sort of conversation at all. But it was too late to run away or make up an excuse. So I just said, ‘All right.’
‘It’s about that night last week,’ said Frank. ‘When we … bumped into each other.’
I could feel myself getting red. Frank looked a bit flushed too.
‘I want to apologise if … if I’ve been a bit unfriendly since then,’ he said. ‘I felt terrible about roaming around your house in my pyjamas.’
You can’t help needing to go to loo, I thought, but of course I couldn’t say that. It would only add to the general embarrassment. So I just said, ‘Well, you were our guest.’
‘But I just want to say …’ Frank took a deep breath. ‘I hope we can forget about it and be pals again.’
I was so relieved I couldn’t speak for a moment.
‘Mollie?’ said Frank nervously. ‘Are you all right?’
‘So do I,’ I said, trying not to remember the moment when he nearly dropped a candle in fright at the sight of me looming over him on the stairs. ‘Want to forget about it, I mean.’ I held out my hand. ‘Pals?’
‘Pals,’ said Frank. I had forgotten how nice his smile is. He’s looked so uncomfortable every time we’ve seen each other all week. ‘And now I’d better finish packing. My uncle’s coming to collect me at four.’
I was still smiling when I b
ounced down the stairs and into the garden, where Harry was fiddling with the chain of a rickety old bicycle that was propped up against a kitchen chair in the middle of the garden path.
‘What are you smirking about?’ he said, wiping his brow and leaving an enormous oily streak across it.
‘Am I not allowed to be cheerful?’ I demanded.
‘Not when I’m trying to fix this chain,’ said Harry.
‘Let me help,’ I said, crouching down to get a closer look.
‘You don’t know anything about bikes,’ said Harry.
‘I can see that goes there,’ I said, reaching out to the back wheel.
‘Don’t touch it!’ said Harry, pushing my hand away. But, as he pushed me, his elbow hit the bike, which must have been precariously propped against the chair because the front wheel twisted around and the front of the bicycle fell on top of Harry.
‘Now see what you’ve done!’ he roared.
‘Are you all right?’ I said.
‘No thanks to you!’ said Harry, angrily putting the bike back in place.
‘Well, you bashed into it,’ I pointed out.
‘Yes, because of you!’ Harry was not pleased. ‘Oh, the chain’s in even more of a mess now. Just clear off, will you?’
I cleared off. But nothing could really dampen my spirits for the rest of the evening. Grace had vowed to keep our secret, Frank and I were friends again, and when his uncle came to collect him I bade him farewell with a heartfelt wave.
‘See you soon, Mollie,’ he said, after shaking hands with Mother and Father.
‘Don’t waste your time talking to her,’ said Harry, who hadn’t quite managed to get all the oil off himself. He can be so petty sometimes. But I can put up with him now everything else has been settled. In fact, I feel so optimistic I’m almost looking forward to the dog show. After all, now Grace has been training Barnaby, he might actually put on an impressive show for all the other dogs.
Best love and votes for women,
Mollie
Saturday, 27th July, 1912.
Dear Frances,
Good Lord. I hope you don’t consider that to be taking the Lord’s name in vain, because really it is more of a prayer. What a day I have had! We are going to Skerries on Monday, and frankly I cannot wait to get away from Dublin and all its excitements because just when I thought things were getting nice and peaceful and even boring again, today happened. And between Barnaby and Harry and Grace and Frank … well, I don’t know where to start. But I suppose I should start with me and Nora arriving at the tennis club to help out with the dog show at the fundraising fête.
Neither of us had seen Grace all week, though I knew from Mrs. Sheffield’s visits to my mother that she had been regularly coming over to this part of town for her tennis-club practice. Strangely enough, she hadn’t felt the urge to visit her aunt and cousins. But we knew all about the plans for her dog show, because Mrs. Sheffield had given us detailed descriptions of our dog-show-helping duties.
‘I’d like you to be there at half past ten to help Grace put up the signs and arrange the prizes and so on,’ she told us on Thursday. ‘Grace has painted all the signs already. What fun it’ll be!’
‘She doesn’t realise what a sacrifice it is, working with the Menace,’ said Nora later. ‘She thinks everyone loves him as much as she does.’
It turned out there was going to be a sort of tent thing in the tennis club grounds, and they had decided it would be a good place for the dog show as the competing canines could be corralled into one place and there would less risk of them roaming free and wild around the tennis courts. (Apparently the only dog who is allowed to do this is Barnaby. Not that anyone could stop him, even if he weren’t allowed. He is a dog who does what he wants, as today’s events would prove.) As well as setting up, Nora and I were required to take the names of all competitors and usher them into the tent. Grace would be too busy wrangling Barnaby, who would be the public face of the competition, just like when you see actresses in advertisements extolling the virtues of Pears’ soap and suchlike.
Harry, of course, was very amused at the thought of me helping out at a tennis-club dog show.
‘Will you have to wear a little hat like a zoo keeper?’ he said over breakfast, chortling at his own ‘wit’.
I ignored him, of course.
‘Well, I’ll see for myself later,’ he said, and alas this was true, because Mother had decided she had to support Mrs. Sheffield’s efforts and was dragging along the rest of the family to the fête. Apart from Father, of course, who was in the office, and Phyllis, who claimed she was still recovering from being ‘run over by a cab’ – which was merely an excuse. I knew perfectly well that apart from a few fading bruises, she was physically in top condition. I told her this and she just laughed at me, which was jolly unfair, as I pointed out.
‘The only reason Nora and I are helping at this fête is because Grace is keeping mum about seeing all of us at that riot,’ I said, and Phyllis had the good grace to look slightly guilty.
‘But still,’ she said, ‘it doesn’t really make any difference to you if I don’t go to the tennis club and throw a ball at a coconut shy, does it?’
‘I suppose not,’ I said. But I still felt she should have come along to support us.
We arrived at the club to find lots of people hurrying around carrying boxes and setting up tables. There, in a far corner, was a biggish tent, the sort they always have at fêtes and fairs and things to keep the rain off.
‘Well, here we go,’ said Nora. ‘Let’s hope she hasn’t had time to change her mind about telling on us since she last saw us.’
‘Don’t say anything about that!’ I said. ‘We don’t want to give her ideas.’
But when we arrived at the tent Grace was nowhere to be seen. She wasn’t outside the tent, and she wasn’t inside the tent. In fact, the only thing in the tent were some stacked up chairs.
‘Maybe she’s behind it?’ said Nora, but she wasn’t. We were wondering if we would have to put on the dog show all by ourselves when we heard an all-too-familiar yapping sound and Barnaby burst through the crowd, with Grace holding onto his lead for dear life.
‘There you are!’ said Nora. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Of course it is,’ said Grace, pushing back a chestnut curl that had somehow escaped from its ribbons. She looked much more flustered than usual. ‘Barnaby’s just in … in a very demanding mood today. He must be excited about his performance.’
He was always in a demanding mood as far as I could tell, but of course I didn’t say that to Grace.
‘So, what do we need to do?’ I asked.
‘Well, first of all I’ve got to get the signs and the prizes and things from Miss Casey in the pavilion,’ said Grace. ‘So you two had better look after Barnaby for a few minutes.’
I looked at Nora with dismay.
‘Are you sure we can’t get those things?’ I said.
‘I promised Mrs. Sheffield I’d look after it,’ said Grace. ‘No one else can be trusted with the medals.’ She didn’t look particularly happy about leaving her beloved charge in our care. She handed me Barnaby’s lead. ‘Hold on tightly and don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back as quickly as possible.’ She ran off in the direction of the pavilion. Nora and I looked at each other, then both of us looked down at Barnaby. He barked crossly at us.
‘I think you’d better hold onto his lead too,’ I said nervously. ‘In case he tries to burst free.’
‘Let’s show him the tent,’ Nora suggested. ‘Make him feel at home.’
And so, with both of us clutching his lead, we led Barnaby into the tent. It was a good thing we were both holding on to him, because he strained away from us in his harness as he sniffed his way around the perimeter. Then he turned around to face us, fixed us with his button eyes, and started barking.
‘Calm down, Barnaby,’ I said, in what I hoped was a soothing voice. ‘She’ll be back in a minute.’
‘How d
oes Grace put up with that noise?’ said Nora, over Barnaby’s barks.
‘Maybe he doesn’t do it when he’s with her?’ I said. And when Grace rushed into the tent a few minutes later, her arms full of cardboard signs, a cardboard box, and a small tin, he did calm down a bit. Of course, Grace had overheard his barking (as I’m sure had everyone in the tennis-club grounds), and wasn’t impressed.
‘What have you been doing to him?’ she asked suspiciously, taking his lead.
‘Nothing!’ I said. ‘He just barks like that practically all the time. Where are the signs?’
‘Here,’ said Grace, and she held up a large piece of cardboard with ‘BARNABY’S DOG SHOW, 11.30. ALL BREEDS WELCOME. WILL YOUR DOG WIN A MEDAL?’ painted on it in neat capital letters. ‘This one is going to be at the entrance to the club.’
‘Are there really medals?’ Nora wanted to know.
Grace nodded and took a small container out of the cardboard box. It contained some tin medals with tennis rackets on them.
‘Aren’t they tennis medals?’ I said.
‘They’re left over from last summer’s tournament,’ said Grace.
‘But the dogs won’t be playing tennis,’ said Nora. A thought struck her and her face lit up. ‘Will they?’
‘Of course they won’t,’ said Grace impatiently. ‘But they’re still competing in what officially is a tennis-club competition.’ When you put it like that, it did make sense to have rackets on the medals. ‘This one is going up outside the tent.’ She held up another sign on which was painted BARNABY’S DOG SHOW. ALL BREEDS WELCOME. AUDIENCE ADMITTANCE 1d. ENTER YOUR DOG 2d.
‘Why didn’t you mention the price on the first poster?’ I asked.
‘Is it in case it puts people off taking in their dogs?’ said Nora. ‘They won’t realise they have to pay until they’re actually at the tent.’