Betty
‘LAST ONE!’
I say, giving two corners of a sheet to Peggy. I look back at the table once more. Did I not leave something there to tidy away? Maybe I’ve it done already.
‘Who’s your best friend in the town?’
For just a second, I think it was Peggy who asked me. It’s the sort of question I would expect from a girl her age. Not from an adult. Not from Anna.
‘I think I’m a bit long in the tooth to be having best friends.’
I try to laugh her off. Although there’s nothing wrong with asking. Maybe I’m being unfair.
‘Is it Ciara Moore?’
She persists. And I realise it isn’t the question that bothers me, it’s the insistence that I should share the details of my life with her.
Anna is always prying, unabashed. I know I’m often prying myself, but I have the cop on to do it with some subtlety.
There is a depth to her tone, as though she is asking something gravely important.
‘I suppose Ciara is a good friend of mine, yes.’
I feel stupid for answering. Anna nods, like I’ve given her something to consider. I turn to Peggy, only wanting to engage with her.
‘Peggy, what sheets do you prefer? I’ve to get a new set for the spare bedroom and I don’t know what to choose!’
All of this flies out of my mouth to stop Anna from saying anything else. I’m not annoyed at her, I just want a minute where she isn’t at me. Peggy brings the corners of the sheet towards me.
‘I like either of them, they’re both nice. We’ve no sheets at all at home.’
‘Peggy, stop.’
Anna cuts across her. Something about all of this is so embarrassing.
All of us trying to stop each other from talking.
Anna must think I’m annoyed at her. She must think I’m so rude for not indulging her questions about Ciara, and she must think that I want to use her little sister for free labour.
This is the last time that I’ll ask Peggy over, it’s not right for me to be getting attached to her.
Oh, but could I stay away from the child?
Why should I stay away? She is obviously starved of attention.
Leave us have each other. It’s not right for Anna to be getting jealous over this.
We would have had a nice time together, this evening, when she called down for Tom.
But she pushed her way in. She made me feel bad, and now it’s all just strange.
‘Do you want to make a pot of tea, Anna?’
I ask her, smiling as politely as I can.
Since she isn’t going to give us a hand with the sheets, she might as well do something useful.
It’s funny that she is so different from Peggy and Tom.
He had us roaring laughing the last night when we were watching The Late Late Show.
Himself and Bill drinking bottles of porter, doing his Gay Byrne impression.
I can’t imagine Anna having the craic like that.
With the last of the sheets folded, I send Peggy outside with scraps for the cats.
‘You know what?’
Anna surprises me, breaking a silence that I didn’t realise had formed.
‘I have such a nice time with you, Betty. It makes such a difference to spend time with a woman. I’m always trying to translate myself for Jack and Tom.’
Such a lot to break a silence with. I wonder if she was waiting for Peggy to leave to say that, if it has been building up inside her for a long time.
Or if she just said it without thinking.
I wonder if she realised that she had soured the tone, and if she’s trying to mend it.
Whatever her intention, I believe what she says.
It’s touching. I sit down and put a hand over hers.
‘Ah, Anna.’
I want to say more, to tell her that I understand.
But I’m not sure what to say. To be honest, I’m not sure I can empathise, I’ve never felt like that with Bill.
Never. He always understands me. It must be so hard to live that way, always trying to make yourself more palatable.
The most vital parts of you, always taken with a degree of misunderstanding.
And then me, the one woman she thinks can understand her, misunderstanding. Lost for words.
‘You can always talk to me. The women have to stick together.’
I say, squeezing her hand, and then quickly getting up to make the tea, hoping it was enough. She’s a nice girl, she’s just different. I want to move things on, but I’m not sure how. I look out the window and see Peggy stroking the cats, and I feel my heart melt.
‘Isn’t Peggy as good as gold? Such a dote.’
As I turn with the teapot, I see Anna rolling her eyes. I pretend not to have noticed.
‘Did you ever want a child?’
She has a real talent for catching me off guard. She must hate me for wanting to spend time with Peggy. She must want to tell me that I need to grow up, to remember that Peggy isn’t mine. I don’t see the point in lying to her.
‘I always wanted a child. Always.’
I pull my eyes away from Peggy and go back to the table. She seems surprised by my frankness. Well, if she’s going to be startling, I’ll join her.
‘Why haven’t you had any so?’
She should know better than to ask that. But there is something refreshing about the way she just speaks her mind. It makes me feel like I could do the same. I take a deep breath.
‘It just never worked out.’
Such a short sentence to sum up so many long years of disappointment. And while such a short sentence betrays everything I’ve been through, I find it is all I can manage. And she surprises me once more.
‘It could definitely happen yet.’
By the look on her face, she really means it. And I find myself relaxing with her again, because I didn’t expect to reveal so much of myself to her, so readily. Maybe she isn’t as bad as I thought. Maybe she’s refreshing, in a way that I need.
‘Would you want a few of your own?’
I ask, realising that with Anna, I have no idea what is coming next. She laughs.
‘I’d be scared to.’
Afraid of the most natural thing in the world. Isn’t it funny? She goes on.
‘Oh, it’s all of it. The men. The birthing. Our mammy died having Peggy, you know? It can just happen so fast.’
‘God rest her.’
I try not to let my face fall. Opening the window to let some fresh air in, we can hear Peggy talking to the cats. I would never have guessed. The mere mention of her mother brings a gloss to Anna’s eyes. I suppose we’ve both said something very personal now. It evens us out.
Then, something catches me: didn’t Bill say that their mother died only recently? That was the reason he gave for leaving Miltown, wasn’t it?
‘Typical, that you’d give anything for a child, and I’m afraid to have one.’
She says, and I laugh, because I only half heard her and I’m not sure what else to do. Poor Peggy, did she never know her mother at all?
‘Aren’t we hard to please?’
Peggy comes back in saying that one of the cats scrawled her.
When I look at her arm, there is nothing there, but still I take her in my lap and give her the attention she wants.
Anna and I go on talking about quieter things for a while, and Peggy stays in my lap, her fidgeting hands slowing down.
It’s lovely, everything feels so soft. Maybe it’s something to do with letting things out.
The clock in the hall strikes. The lads will be back up from the farm any minute.
‘Will you go and find Bill and Tom for me?’
I whisper to Peggy. She yawns and looks at Anna, who nods.
And so she gets down and goes out the door for them.
I didn’t realise she was dozing. To have never known her mother and father.
What does that do to a child? When my own mother died, I felt like I had lost a limb.
Perhaps Peggy hasn’t lost a limb, perhaps she was born without one.