Sister's Trio Squad

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

"Then hold your tongue, Miss! Hasn't there been enough arguing and fighting already? And your poor Pa God rest him and then our Fergal taken from us only six months ago. It's a short memory you have."

Nancy threw her hands in the air. 'Isn't that what I've been trying to tell you, Ma? I've had enough of the fighting, the killing, the curfews and the raids. And now, when we've got rid of the Black and Tans and the Army, when we've finally got the "Home Rule" that Pa and Fergal died for, don't we just start fighting one another! I've had enough of Ireland, I'm going to America and I'm going to be "Someone"!"

Matty rose. Now, with both Pa and Fergal gone, he was head of the household. The three of you will all stop yelling and we'll sit down and discuss this. Now, sit down!'

Margaret pulled out one of the chairs set around the still cluttered table and sat with resignation. Lisa, already sitting, cast her gaze first towards her mother and then Nancy. Nancy remained standing, her manner openly mutinous.

'I said sit down!' For a moment Matty thought she was going to defy him and he wondered just what he would do if she did. Then she yanked the chair out, its legs scraping on the floor. She finally sat with a very bad grace, tossing her hair back defiantly as she always did when thwarted. 'You, too, Ma. We'll discuss this as a family should.'

'Some family!' Nancy muttered. Families were supposed to support one another, to stick together. But all the families she knew spent most of their time fighting and feuding, and recently theirs had been no exception.

Sarah looked around at what had once been a united, happy family and wondered sadly what had gone so terribly wrong. Then she sighed. What had gone wrong was 'The Troubles'. They'd had a good life before that. She and Pat had been respected citizens of Clonmel. They'd never been short of money. True, they'd never had money for real luxuries, not with five children to bring up. But she'd always managed to save some small amount each year.

Now she was glad she'd been so frugal and prudent. With both Pat and Fergal dead she would need that money.

She could never think about Pat without an ache in her heart. He'd never been involved in any trouble, he went out of his way to avoid it. Going out of his way' he'd been caught in the crossfire between the 'Tans' and the Tipperary Brigade on the night the Boys had stormed the Barracks. The grief of that tragedy had turned Fergal to vengeful anger and nothing she had done or said had stopped him from joining a Flying Column. He'd only lasted six months before he'd been killed in an ambush and she'd seen him laid beside his Pa. A pain tore at her heart. Oh, the waste! There was no sense in violence and still it wasn't over! The worst kind of war loomed ahead. Already father and son were at each others throats. She certainly didn't blame Nancy for wanting to leave Ireland. Matty interrupted her thoughts. 'So, you want to go to

America?' 'Yes!' 'What for, apart from running from what looks like an

inevitable Civil War, and for that I don't blame you?' 'What is there for us here? Who knows how long all this trouble will go on? I want a chance to make something of my life.' Nancy was trying desperately to keep calm.

'And I do, too, Ma! I like working for Mrs O'Leary but I'm never going to manage the shop or have one of my own and I don't want to end up marrying some cottier, have a dozen children and look fifty when I'm twenty-eight!"

'It was good enough for me, Miss!' 'Oh, things were different then, Ma, and besides Pa had a good trade. Women don't have to . . . Lisa's forehead puckered into a frown as she searched for the right word.. . 'conform! That's it, conform! Women have careers now!'

'Not in Ireland they don't.' Nancy stated caustically. "This country is about fifty years behind everyone else! When I wanted my hair cut in that new "bob" didn't Celia Delaney come rushing up here to tell you and then didn't you absolutely forbid me to have it cut? And that's just for a beginning. I want to be stylish, I want to be "in vogue". She'd read that in a magazine but didn't really know what it meant.

Sarah sighed again. Pat would have known what to have done. He had always known how to deal with Nancy. But Pat was lying in St Mary's churchyard, and so she looked for guidance from Matty. 'So

you all want to go, do you?' Matty asked. 'You've

all made up your minds?' All three nodded. 'And what will you two do? We all know what Nancy wants, as well as being "in vogue", whatever that means!'

'Aye, riding to Hell on the Divil's back as fast as she can!' 'Ma, it's not that bad!' Matty interrupted. 'She's got a good voice and not everyone can be utterly depraved

and ... 'Oh, I know she's got the voice. The clearest soprano in the whole of this county since she was twelve. Didn't the Archbishop of Waterford and Lismore himself say that when she sang "Veni Sancte Spiritus" at the Confirmation Service?'

'And I sang at that soiree Mrs Butler-Power had and at the "Musicale Interlude" at Kilsheelan Castle! Count de la Poer especially asked Father Maguire for me, you know he did! And how many Saturday mornings have I had off work to sing at weddings? So many that even Matron has said I should make a career of it!' Matty continued undeterred. 'And how do you two

intend to support yourselves, because you'll have to,

there's no money to spare here?"

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Lisa was undaunted. 'We'll find work. There'll be bigger shops, bigger hotels, bigger hospitals.' I'm not working in any hospital,' Nancy cried. 'I've had enough of hospitals to last me a lifetime. I'm going into the Theatre and I'm going to be

a success!' And what about you, Margaret? I thought you liked working at Hearn's, and you're well thought of there.' With an effort Sarah stopped herself from showing the pain of losing her eldest daughter whom she had thought of as being more 'settled' and a comfort to her in the dark days ahead.

I've had enough of being at everyone's beck and call and they pay me buttons, you know that, Ma. I can get a better job and send money home.' Margaret refused to meet her mother's eyes but her reply was quietly emphatic.

Sarah was no fool and she knew her daughter inside out. She had watched Margaret's cheeks flush and her eyes become hard whenever people spoke of Kitty Cassidy. Poor Kitty who hadn't even gone 'walking out' with a young man, through no fault of her own. Someone had to look after her old, widowed mother and Kitty was to be admired for devoting her life to that task, everyone said so. But whenever Kitty's name was mentioned she had seen the change in her daughter's attitude. Margaret had her pride and if she wanted a husband so badly that she was prepared to cross the ocean to fulfil that desire, she wouldn't stand in her way no matter how much it would hurt to lose her. No one would accuse her of keeping Margaret at home like the Widow Cassidy had kept poor Kitty.

Matty faced Nancy again. 'And what about Michael Feehey? I thought you two had an understanding?" She laughed derisively. 'Michael Feehey! Michael Feehey and me!'

'You weren't scorning him a month ago, were you?' Sarah interrupted. "Then it was "Michael this and Michael that"!'

'I've never given him any encouragement, Nancy snapped. 'And I've no intention of ending up the wife of a butcher."

"There's half a dozen girls in Clonmel who would be only too delighted to be serving alongside such a husband! Isn't Feehey's the biggest and best butchers in the town and haven't they their own house - bought and paid for?" 'And they're welcome to it.' Nancy glowered. She'd had

what she had thought of as a brief flirtation with the only son of the town's most prosperous butcher, but she had dismissed him after a while, feeling he was dull and predictable, like every other young man she knew. 'Well, you're not going to America and that's final!'

Matty announced firmly. At this statement Nancy erupted again, jumping to her feet and knocking her chair over. 'I'm twenty-one, Matty O'Maxwell, just three years younger than you, and I'll not have you telling me where I can and where I can't go!' she yelled.

'Sit down and use your brain, if have

you

I doubt!' he yelled back, also rising to his feet. Sarah got up and reached for her coat. 'I've had enough of this altogether! There's nothing else for it, I'm going for Father Maguire.'

At the mention of the Parish Priest's name and the look of grim determination on their mother's face, both Nancy and Matty fell silent.

It was Margaret who reached out and pulled at the sleeve of Nancy's blouse, willing her to sit down. When the presence of the Parish Priest was required at a house things must be desperate indeed and the whole street would know all about it in a few minutes. The rest of the town would find out before the night was out. 'Is it a spectacle you want to make of us all!' she hissed.

With her lips tightly compressed but her eyes still snap ping fire, Nancy slowly picked up her chair and sat down. When she set her heart and mind on something she could be immovable and she was determined to find fame and fortune.

Matron's remarks, uttered with sarcasm, had sown the seeds in her mind. The 'Musicale Interlude' at Kilsheelan Castle had nurtured them. She'd been terrified that night, though she would never admit it, for everyone of import ance in the South Riding of Tipperary had been there, right up to the Lord Provost of the County. But she'd managed to appear calm and even a little vivacious and her rendering of "The Last Rose of Summer' and 'My Wild Irish Rose', her special favourite as it always reminded her of her Pa, had been well received. Both the Count himself and the Lord Provost had complimented her on her voice and composure.

It had been on the way home - driven in the Count's own motor car to the very door that she had felt the first real stirrings of ambition. If she could impress them, she could surely captivate an audience of lesser mortals? That thought had had a powerful effect on her. She had leaned back against the real leather upholstery and closed her eyes. Why shouldn't she try? Why shouldn't she live like them? Why shouldn't she have a motor car? It was an intoxicating revelation. It had been then that the seed had really borne fruit and nothing was going to stop her - ever!

'Matty, please?' Lisa murmured, a hand on his arm.

Matty resumed his seat.

Sarah hung the coat back on its peg behind the door.