‘And what if your mother could afford to send you?’
‘How? Just how big is this nest egg?’
‘Not that big,’ Mary said. ‘But your mother has something else.’
‘What?’
‘Your mother left school at fourteen and went to work for a grocer, by the name of George Maitland,’ Mary said. ‘Angela loved serving in the shop and all and was so pleasant and hardworking George said she was a godsend and I think he felt quite paternal towards her. She was there before she married Barry and after, till just a few weeks before you were born. George paid good money, especially for a girl in those days, and sent home a big basket of groceries every week too. He was very good to us and Angela was quite fond of him. He died suddenly just after your father enlisted and, though his shop and all went to his wife, he left some of his mother’s jewellery to Angela.’
‘He gave some of his mother’s jewellery to Mammy?’ Connie almost squealed in excitement. ‘Is it valuable?’
‘I’d say it must be worth something for it to be lodged in the bank for safe-keeping. The bank manager was anxious for Angela to see it and give him instructions as to what she wanted to do with it. However, Angela couldn’t get there in normal opening hours for she was by then working long hours in the munitions, so the bank manager opened the bank especially so she could see what George had left her.’
‘You went into a bank?’ Connie said incredulously.
‘I did,’ Mary said. ‘I went to support Angela, for she didn’t want to go on her own and no wonder. Going into the bank in the normal way of things would have been nerve-wracking enough, but as the bank was opened especially just for us we were the only ones in there. Tell you, our boots sounded very loud on those marble floors and the lofty domed ceilings seemed to be miles away, and all around us were gleaming high counters with grilles in front of them. It was all very grand and I don’t know how your mammy felt, but I was very uncomfortable.’
‘But you saw the jewellery?’
Mary nodded. ‘The bank manager took us into a special room for that.’
‘And so what did you think of it?’
‘It was very fine.’
‘Is that all you can say?’ Connie said, disappointed.
‘What d’you want me to say?’ Mary said. ‘I know nothing about jewellery and this was during the war nine or ten years ago and I have never set eyes on any of it since. Anyway, that’s what the bank manager said when Angela asked him if any of it was valuable. He said he didn’t know the absolute value of it, because he wasn’t a jeweller, but he did say there were some fine pieces there. He offered to get them valued, but your mammy said not to bother, that she could make no decision till the war was over and your daddy was back home. Till then she was leaving them in the bank.’
‘But he didn’t come home.’
‘No, he didn’t,’ said Mary with a sigh. ‘But she had a plan for what to do with it anyway, for she told me. And if he had survived the war, Barry would have supported her, for all that pair thought about was you.’
‘What was the plan?’
‘To sell most of the jewellery to enable you to go as far as you were able in your education and save a couple of the prettiest pieces to give you on your wedding day in place of the locket. There,’ said Mary. ‘I probably wasn’t meant to tell you that, but the damage is done now.’
‘I’m glad I know,’ Connie said. ‘But I wish Mammy wasn’t so set on this. I really don’t think I am that brainy and, even if I was, I don’t want all this money spent on me. It’s her money, she’s earned it, and I would rather she spent it on herself and wore the jewellery someone was kind enough to leave her in a will or whatever. I’m sure that’s what this George Maitland intended. I bet he never imagined for one minute that she would plan to sell it all and give all the money made to someone else.’
‘I agree with you,’ Mary said. ‘But I doubt you will ever get your mother to see things that way. Educating you seems to be her life’s work.’
‘I know,’ Connie agreed gloomily. ‘And I suppose I must accept it, unless of course at the end I turn out to be a real dumb cluck and she can see for herself that funding further education would be money wasted.’
‘There is a saying that you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear,’ Mary said.
‘Of course you can’t,’ Connie said. ‘And that’s what Mammy is trying to do, make me out to be someone I’m not and someone I don’t want to be either.’
However, they knew all the talking under the sun would not change Angela’s opinion once her mind was made up.
A few weeks later it was almost time for the schools to break up for the summer. Connie was pleased, for it meant she would be able to help her mother more, especially in looking after her grandmother, whose health had had a little boost in the warm days they’d had of late.
Both Angela and Connie were surprised when the knock came to the door, for few people knocked in these streets except to collect debts. As Angela was in the cellar getting a scuttleful of coal, Connie went to open the door. She saw at once that the young man outside looking at her quizzically was not of these parts. He had no hat, but his brown hair was brushed sleek and she could tell that the navy suit he had on was of top quality. Beneath it his shirt was snow-white and the handkerchief in his top pocket matched the tie, which was fastened with a gold tie pin. Gold cufflinks glistened in the shirt sleeves just peeping out from beneath his jacket and he wore shoes, not boots, and they were black leather and polished so they shone.
Suits were familiar to Connie for most men wore them for Mass unless their wives hadn’t the money to get it from the pawn shop where most suits were taken on Monday morning. However, none of the suits she’d seen were like the one the young man had on, nor were they worn in the same way. Her neighbours often looked uncomfortable in their suits, encased some of them seemed, but this young man wore his suit as easily as if he wore one every day.
All this Connie took in in an instant, and the young man was fair dazzled by Connie’s smile, which she bestowed on him as she said, ‘Can I help you?’
The young man wasn’t half as self-assured as he appeared. He wasn’t at all sure he had got the right address and he said a little hesitantly, ‘I need to speak to a Mrs Angela McClusky.’
That took the wind right out of Connie’s sails, for it had been the last thing she had expected him to say, and she wondered what such a person would want with her mother.
The man, seeing her reaction, said, ‘Have I come to the right place?’
‘Oh yes, that’s my mother,’ Connie said.
‘Who is it, Connie?’ Mary asked from her chair by the fire.
‘Someone to see Mammy,’ Connie told her and to the young man she said, ‘You’d best come in. My mother is in the
