Oh, I didn’t expect this. She says it like it still hurts. A girl her ageshouldn’t even know that word. I assumed Peggy would have been popular anywhere she went. Thanks be to God that she has been given a new start.
‘Nobody should call you that, Peggy. Sure it isn’t your fault what happened to your mammy and daddy.’
I reach out, tilting her face to me.
‘I told my teacher they’re working in Áras an Uachtaráin. Just so you know.’
I take this to mean she wants me to spread the rumour on her behalf. I nod, and hope that she believes me. Those awful brats. I’ve half a mind to ring her old school. I squeeze her arm and try to get her mind off it.
‘Would Anna normally make Brigid’s Crosses with you?’
I ask, but Peggy doesn’t look up at me again. She is focused on bending the reeds as evenly as she can.
‘No, Anna can’t make them. She hasn’t the patience for anything like this. None of them at home would.’
I wonder what things Anna has patience for at home. Whether she is the closest to Peggy, or whether it’s one of the boys. I carry a hot, heavy teapot to the table and sit with her, sorting the reeds by size. She admires the crocheted tea cosy in the shape of a hen. I tell her that I made it, that I can teach her how to do it one day. But she seems more interested in the woolly hen.
‘I love all animals. I’m going to be a vet when I’m older.’
‘Oh, you’ll make a brilliant vet, Peggy.’
And I wonder where she got the patience from, if not from Anna or the two lads. I’m not being nosy, I only want to find out more about the family.
‘So who used you make Brigid’s Crosses with before, if it wasn’t Anna?’
‘Lillian.’
Hold on now. Nobody has mentioned any Lillian to me before. Peggy sighs.
‘Is that your friend from home?’
I ask, and immediately regret asking. Ballycrea is her home now, I shouldn’t be putting other ideas in her head. I’m sure it’s been hard enough to get her to settle here, without me reminding her of the home and all of the people she has left behind.
‘Lillian was Jack’s girl. She used look after me all the time.’
Now there’s a bit of gossip. Jack has left a girl behind in their old village. What happened there, I wonder? And has Tom mentioned anything to Bill? I don’t know why I never considered that they might have left women behind them. Sure they’re good-looking lads. It just seems like they are an isolated unit, the four of them, with no ties to anyone else. I’ll have to tell Ciara.
‘We used make them every year at her house, on the first day of spring.’
Maybe I shouldn’t encourage her to keep talking about this woman. Especially if she is Jack’s ex-girlfriend. Peggy needs to be present where she is, not half here and half there.
‘What are you giving up for Lent, Peggy?’
It’s easy to change the subject with a child. She starts listing all the sweets she is going to give up. Lent is more than a month away, but she doesn’t question it. I pour a cup of tea for her.
‘Lillian used always say she was giving up sugar, but then she would take sugar in her tea on Sundays and eat fruitcake with it. Are you allowed to break Lent on Sundays?’
‘I’m sure even Holy God takes a little break on Sundays.’
I’m not sure what else to tell her. If this Lillian was breaking Lent, I don’t want to tell Peggy that she was wrong. I wonder if it was a bad endbetween herself and Jack. Maybe she could come and visit, or maybe we could arrange for Peggy to talk to her on the telephone. Or maybe that’s all totally inappropriate. I’ll have to ask Ciara what she thinks.
‘That’s what Lillian would say! But Jack would never laugh because her daddy never laughed, and he wanted her daddy to like him.’
‘Hurry up and finish that cross now, like a good girl.’
There’s no taking Lillian out of her head. Once the first cross is finished, I hold it up to the kitchen window, to the sunlight, and pretend to inspect it.
‘Peggy, this is perfect! Oh, it’s so neat, you’ll have to do me a few more.’
