Sister's Trio Squad

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

'Yes, Ma'm, I'm going to Liverpool with my sisters.' The woman gave her a more genuine smile. That would put paid to Mrs O'Leary's little 'bits of business'. 'Good luck to you, dear, there's not much here for ambitious young things. Now, what was it I wanted? I've a head like a sieve lately.'

After Mass the following week they all stood on the steps of St Mary's, Irishtown, the district just beyond the west gate of the old town walls.

It had been a hectic week. Everything was packed up at the house in Anne Street, indeed some of the furniture had already gone to the farmhouse outside the village of Kilsheelan, just a few miles up the road from Clonmel. The girls were to travel to Dublin the following day by train and from there board the ferry to Liverpool.

It was a beautiful April day. The sort of mild spring day that makes everything look fresh and newly washed. There were a few cirrus clouds scattered high in the pale blue sky and shafts of sunlight picked out the golden clumps of daffodils dotted around the churchyard.

They all wore their best clothes and all three knew they were the object of many admiring and speculative glances. By choosing their outfits with care and by using the odd piece of ribbon here, the carefully placed brooch there, they always managed to achieve a slightly more stylish appearance than even Mrs Butler-Power, who had: 'a crock of gold and no more dress sense than a Dublin kitchen maid', as Lisa described her.

Nancy wore a heather-coloured suit, the jacket of which reached below her slender hips. The straight skirt ended six inches above her ankles, showing the one pair of greatly treasured silk stockings she owned and black shoes with hour-glass heels and a strap over the instep. Her hair was tucked up under a toque hat of soft velour, to the front of which she had pinned a small bunch of artificial violets, purchased at Mrs O'Leary's. The shade of the hat almost matched the suit. Almost, but not quite, and the fact irritated her. Then she shrugged. Who would even notice anyway?

Lisa's coat had been a plainly cut, russet wool until she had painstakingly edged the collar, cuffs and pockets with some black velvet ribbon she'd bought cost price from work. The cream blouse, the carefully ironed flounces of which frothed at her throat, made her skin appear flaw lessly pale. She wore a large-brimmed, black felt hat, adorned with the tail feathers of a c**k pheasant, begged from Mr Feehey the elder.

As Margaret's hair was a paler shade than her sisters, blue was one of her favourite colours. Her coat-dress, bought especially for Patsy Ryan's wedding, had been refurbished by covering the lapels and cuffs with some black, crushed velvet, unpicked from an old and very outdated dress of Sarah's. She wore a matching blue hat, one side of which had been pinned up with her mother's jet mourning brooch, and she was very pleased with the whole effect. It made her look younger and quite elegant, so Nancy had assured her.

As the church emptied, people stood in the warm sun shine in small groups, chatting. Some of the younger men and a few of the the older ones, too, were already sloping off in the direction of the nearest bar. Their retreat duly noted by the sharp eyes of Father Maguire as he stood bidding 'Good day and the Lord go with you!' to his parishioners. As the O'Maxwell family stood on the top step of the portico, the priest turned to them and tutted. So, Clonmel is losing the three of you and tomor

row, too?" 'Father, I've made a dozen novenas but nothing will keep them here!'

Maybe it's for the best, Sarah. We live in troubled times, God help us.' 'We're moving back to Kilsheelan, Father, did I tell you?'

'Aye, you did that. A good move, Sarah. Sensible. Alto gether sensible.' He inclined his head in Matty's direction. So you'll be under the pastoral care of Father Hyland at St Mary's, then, but I'll expect you back here, every now and then.'

The three girls had begun to walk slowly down the steps. To their right a group of young men stood talking. Nancy glanced at them from beneath her lashes to see what effect their presence and the news of their departure was having.

'So, you're off to Liverpool to make your fortunes, then?' one called. 'And what's it to do with you, at all, Michael Feehey?'

Nancy tried to sound cold. It only made the group smile. 'Nothing! Nothing at all! I suppose you'll be back to visit us when you're rich and famous?" There was no missing the note of sarcasm in his voice. Once, when she had tried to impress him, in what she

now termed a 'fit of sheer stupidity', she had told him of

her ambitions. Now he was openly making fun of her.

'And when you're famous, I expect we'll all have to pay to even talk to you?' Dinny Magee had a shock of unruly, carroty hair and a laugh like the braying of a disgruntled donkey. 'And I suppose you're takin' the other two to be your Lady's Maids?' He laughed. It was infectious. The whole group was openly smirking. Some of the lingering congregation turned towards them and Father Maguire frowned. He'd have no rows outside his church and them all a bare five minutes out of Mass!

Nancy's temper began to rise. She straightened her

shoulders and drew herself up into what she hoped was

a dignified posture and glared at them all.

Before she had time to deliver a cutting reply, Michael laughed. 'Gather round and listen now! The Sisters O'Maxwell are leaving Clonmel, isn't that a grand thing altogether? And isn't it a fine Music Hall act they'll make? Ladies and Gentlemen, we present, for your entertain ment, "The Sisters O'Maxwell!" And with the flourish of a handkerchief, he swept them an exaggerated bow. The older men stiffened. Blood feuds had started with less provocation than this.

Nancy was shaking so hard she had to fight to stop herself storming down the steps and slapping the smirk off that mocking, impudent face, right there and then in front of everyone, Father Maguire included. She caught a movement from the corner of her eye as Matty moved down the steps towards the group, but it was Margaret who stepped in front of her. Margaret whose eyes flashed as dangerously as her own.

'Well, since you've taken it on yourself to tell the whole neighbourhood, Michael Feehey, yes we are leaving and it's because we don't want to end up married to the likes of eejits like you that we are going!"

A cutting laugh rang out behind her. Marry him! I'd sooner live in a bohreen with the pigs he sells than marry the likes of him!"

Nancy's derision had its effect. Michael's laughter faded and he stood glaring at her. As she was still on the steps and therefore in a more elevated position than him and most of the others, she turned her head slowly, her gaze sweeping over them all.

"The "Sisters O'Maxwell" are leaving and we will be back and we will be rich or famous or even both, so we'll be saying our Goodbyes now, and there won't be any need for you all to traipse over to Prior Park Station in the morning! And with that she walked down the remaining steps with Lisa on her right and Margaret on her left.

The little groups parted to let them through while Sarah followed, nodding her acquaintance to those in the crowd.

Once out of earshot Lisa gave an irritated little snort. 'You've done it now, all right! We can't come back even if we wanted to.'

Nancy patted her hat purposefully. 'Oh, I'll come back and just as I promised. Rich and famous and Michael Feehey will eat his words!'

It cost five shillings for a private cabin or 'berth' on the overnight ferry from Dublin to Liverpool. A fact that caused an instant disagreement. A disagreement instigated by Nancy who had, as Margaret declared witheringly, got more and more 'above herself' ever since they'd left Clonmel.

They were queuing to buy their tickets in the large shed that served as an office, in company with what looked like half the population of Dublin, as Lisa tersely put it.

That train journey was desperate! I'm tired, hungry and I must look a fright. At least if we have a cabin we'll get a decent night's sleep and we can have a good wash.'

'Ever since we left you've done nothing but moan and complain. We're not going First Class and we're not wast ing five whole shillings on a cabin when we'll be quite comfortable in the Saloon,' Lisa snapped. They were all tired and hungry.

'Comfortable! Comfortable, with this lot and with half the men on board drinking the bar dry and probably fighting! You call that "comfort", and what's more, if it's rough, everyone will be sick!'

'We agreed, Nancy. It was good of Ma to give us twenty-five shillings, you know she can't afford it, and five shillings for a cabin is just a pure waste, besides being daylight robbery. We haven't got money to burn. We can just about pay for seats in the Saloon out of our own money, and keep Ma's for later.' Margaret's common sense was usually the deciding factor when such arguments sprang up. So they paid the standard fare and strug gled with their bags up the gangway of the Connaught.