in the year and pay me a proper wage so that’s something to look forward to.’
Lucy was thoroughly ashamed of her annoyance at Danny getting any sort of job. All he was trying to do was help their mother and his siblings. Her mother looked better than Lucy had seen her in years, and she knew that, though Minnie was still very poor, Lucy’s own contribution, and the added extra from Danny, had removed the worry from her mind that they might starve to death or be taken to the poorhouse. That alone had made her look better. The clothes from Clara had made a difference too. Lucy was quite surprised to see that with more food, less strenuous work and more money to dress nicely and look after herself better, her mother could look quite pretty.
After such a ferocious winter, the spring was a good one, and Easter, in the second week of April, was almost balmy. Lucy had hoped that Master Clive might be home for the holidays, but Clara told her that as the exams for his Higher School Certificate started not that long after Easter, he was staying with a schoolfriend in England where they were having extra revision lessons. ‘And, I believe, seeing quite a lot of the Ponsombys, or probably, I should say, it is Jessica Ponsomby he is interested in visiting.’
A totally unreasonable and unexpected stab of jealousy shot through Lucy as she said, ‘Cook told me about her. She says she’s a spoilt madam.’
Clara’s lips nipped together in annoyance. ‘Cook has a slack mouth at times,’ she said. ‘And I don’t know that she has seen that much of Miss Jessica to make such statements. Anyway, people change. The Ponsombys are old friends of the Heatheringtons. Norah told me that Lady Ponsomby had lost a son in the Great War, and when she learnt that Lady Amelia had lost sons as well, it was like a bond shared between them. Jessica is a year younger than Clive and their mothers have high hopes of them.’
‘High hopes?’
‘Yes,’ Clara said. ‘To marry. It really would be eminently sensible.’ And she added, ‘With her brother dead, Miss Jessica will inherit everything when her father dies, and she will also have a sizeable settlement when she is married. Sometimes the size of a dowry is better than a pretty face.’
Lucy was quite shocked. She had naïvely thought that you married someone you loved, who could easily not be that eminently sensible or very rich, but your choice at least. However, she was too miserable to say any of this. She knew that people like those she worked for often had different ways of doing things and this choosing someone who was eminently sensible to marry was just another indication of that.
As spring slid into a mild summer, Lord Heatherington got astride a horse again and Rory told them he had been like a dog with two tails. There was also no problem with Lucy going home every month, and, though she looked forward to it, she was always concerned by how much her siblings seemed to change each time and what little part she had in their lives now.
This was more or less confirmed when Liam made his first Holy Communion in late June.
‘It isn’t even that I can’t be there,’ she complained to Clodagh. ‘I mean, I would like to be there, it is a special day, but I am more upset by the fact that he more or less expected that I wouldn’t make it. He wasn’t the tiniest bit upset, like it didn’t matter to him one way or the other.’
‘Did you want him to be upset?’ Clodagh asked. ‘Would it have made you feel better if he was breaking his heart crying over it because you couldn’t be there, however upset he was?’
‘I know,’ Lucy said resignedly. ‘And no, I suppose that I don’t want him upset, of course I don’t. It’s just …’
‘Lucy, it would be the same if you were married and lived a distance away.’
‘I don’t want to be married,’ Lucy said. ‘Do you?’
‘Not likely,’ Clodagh said. ‘Well, not yet, anyway. Good job really, because where do we go to meet any men or boys?’
‘We go to Mass.’
‘Well, I’ve seen no likely looking chaps there, have you?’
‘No,’ Lucy said with a smile. ‘But then I haven’t been looking.’
‘Haven’t you?’ Clodagh asked. ‘You probably will in a year or two, but I wouldn’t waste your time looking in Letterkenny. And then if you found a boy you fancied, you would have no time to see him.’
‘Does that bother you?’
‘No, at the moment it doesn’t,’ Clodagh said. ‘But I’m definitely not going to stay in service for ever. For now, though, there is going to be a bit of excitement for us because Master Clive will be home next week.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Lucy said, ‘I had almost forgotten that.’ She blushed as she spoke because she knew exactly when Clive was expected home. The date seemed to be engraved on her heart.
Clodagh hadn’t noticed Lucy’s blushes, and she went on, ‘I wonder what Master Clive will make of his father’s progress. Neither the Master nor the Mistress has told him in letters or anything because Rory said the Master wanted it to be a total surprise.’
‘It will be a surprise all right,’ Lucy said. ‘Or maybe shock is a better word, because didn’t Rory say that the Master was trotting round on his horse the other day as if he’d never been out of the saddle?’
‘He did,’ Clodagh said. ‘He did indeed.’
Clive was indeed shocked, but also delighted to see his father so well. The first thing they did was go for a ride together. Word of this soon reached the kitchen and everyone was pleased. Clara had seen them both ride out together and said that it filled her heart with joy to see Lord Heatherington almost returned to the man he had once been. Aware of the short time he would have alone with his parents before his travelling companions arrived, Clive rode with his father every day and was also an amusing companion at the dinner table in the evening.
When his three friends arrived the house became instantly more alive and vibrant, and the kitchen a far busier place. They all seemed to have voracious appetites, and after dinner on the first day they insisted on being introduced to the cook who had produced the delicious food they had just enjoyed. They almost burst into the kitchen, and though Lucy thought they all seemed so nice, friendly and smiling, she was suddenly overcome by shyness. She retreated to the scullery and watched from the door.
She saw that Clive was his usual amusing self, putting his arm around Cook as he introduced her.
‘This is the one responsible for all the culinary delights you have just enjoyed, and will, I promise you, continue to enjoy, for she is the best cook in the world and she answers to the name of Ada, Ada Murphy.’
A young man with a shock of black curls and dark eyes, whom Clive introduced as Colin Braithwaite, shook hands with Cook and said, ‘Mrs Murphy, I have to say every mouthful I have eaten so far has been exquisite.’
Cook’s face was as red as a ripe tomato. ‘Oh, sir,’ she cried, ‘you’re too … too …’
‘He’s not too anything,’ said another young man, who was slight of build and had sandy hair and eyes a sort of hazel colour. ‘Exquisite is exactly the right word.’ He also took Cook’s hand. ‘My name is Phillip Banister and I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Mrs Murphy, and I know my friend Mathew will agree. Likes his grub, does Mathew Mainwaring.’
Mathew was as broad as Phillip was skinny. His dark brown eyes twinkled as he said to Cook, ‘I’ll say so, Mrs Murphy. In fact, I can’t ever remember a time that I have eaten better.’
Cook recovered herself enough to say, ‘You’re so kind, young sirs.’
‘Not at all,’ Colin said. ‘Credit where credit’s due and all that.’
‘Hear, hear,’ Mathew