The Importance of Being Kennedy. Laurie Graham

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СКАЧАТЬ there was a time. I thought I'd meet somebody, but in my line of work you don't get a lot of time for meeting somebodies. And now I look back, I had the best of both worlds. I had more of their little smiles and kisses than ever Herself did, and none of her aches and pains.

      Ursie's letter went on.

       I mailed Deirdre a box of initialled handkerchiefs from Federated. Whether they'll ever reach her I don't know. They'll probably end up in a mud hut somewhere, but it's the thought that counts. Mr Jauncey is visiting with his in-laws in Nashua.

      Every year Ursie sends handkerchiefs, and if I know Deirdre, she gives them away. I bet all her little piccaninnies are wiping their schnozzes on hankies from Federated. I try to picture Deirdre getting older. The last picture we got she was tubbier and wearing spectacles, but she hadn't a line on her face. Still that big, shining ‘did you hear the angels’ smile.

      Directly after the New Year Mr K was off on his travels, to Florida first, to play a few useful rounds of golf, he said, and then to California. The children hated to see him leave. The house felt different when he was at home. Kick and Rosie loved making up little dances to perform for him, and the boys liked to get him playing Spit or Concentration. That last evening, before he left for the train station, Herself even dusted off the pianoforte and played ‘Silent Night’. Me and Fidelma sat on the stairs and listened.

      She said, ‘See, Brennan? Happy Families. I'm telling you, they've come to an arrangement about Miss Swanson.’

      Mr K was to be gone a month at least. He came up to the nursery to kiss Bobby goodbye, only Bobby wouldn't be kissed.

      He said, ‘Nora, I may not be around much but my children are everything to me. If ever there's a problem, if ever there's anything you think I should know about, especially when Mrs Kennedy goes away to have the baby, you can ask Eddie Moore to call me. I don't care what time of day it is. He always knows where I can be reached.’

      I said, ‘They like to get your little letters.’

      ‘And I like writing them,’ he said. ‘Regular correspondence is a good habit for a child to learn. It's been such a swell Christmas. I really hate to go but when you're in business you can't turn your back for a minute. You have to be on the spot and on your toes.’

      After he left I heard Mrs K back at the pianoforte. She was playing Mayor Fitzgerald's favourite, ‘Sweet Adeline’, putting in all the twiddly bits, but when I looked in on her to say goodnight her face was grim enough to stop a Waterbury clock. It was common knowledge, written up in the dailies, that Miss Swanson was down at Palm Beach and that was where Mr Kennedy was heading, and even a new mink jacket couldn't take the sting out of that.

      Danny Walsh drove her up to Boston the next week, to a nursing home, to get ready for her lying-in. There were to be no more home births. She said, ‘I can't get the rest I need with children running up and down the stairs and it's not good for the baby to have a mother with jangled nerves. If there are any problems you must call Mrs Moore.’

      Mary Moore was very good-humoured about taking over when Mrs K was away. She even came down when Joseph Patrick made his first communion because neither his mammy nor his daddy could be there. But I didn't have to call upon her while Mrs K was away to the baby hospital. Even Jack managed not to get sick and we had a grand time. I gave Rosie a holiday from learning her letters and she helped me with Bobby and Pat, and when the others came in from school I left them in peace to play their own games. There were none of Mother's Quizzes to study up for. Joe was thirteen by then so he thought he was too old for milk and cookies by the nursery fire. He liked to be out of doors, throwing snowballs at tin cans or polishing his ice slide. But Jack didn't care for the cold. He'd have his head in an adventure book or play a game of Chutes and Ladders with Kick and Euny.

      It didn't worry us that Mr and Mrs K were both away from home. In fact we all preferred it. With Mrs K you could never be sure where you stood. Little things bothered her. You could be getting the ‘dear heart’ treatment, hearing how she could have married Sir Thomas Lipton, if she'd played her cards that way, and been a real English Lady, then she'd start going through the trash can and before you knew it you were getting a telling-off because you might have eked one more spoonful of malt extract out of the jar you'd thrown away. Left to ourselves, me and Fidelma could run that nursery blindfolded, and after Jean arrived we had plenty of chances.

      Jean Ann was born on Kick's eighth birthday. We were having a little tea party for some of her friends from the day school when we got the telephone call. Mr K was already on his way up to Boston to see the new arrival.

      Joseph Patrick said, ‘Nora, do you think I'm old enough to be the new baby's godfather? I think I am.’

      He was a hard one to fathom. I'd had to read the riot act only half an hour before, because of his silly rough-housing, nearly pulling Jack's arm from its socket, and then there he was, talking about standing godfather to his new sister. And he did it too. Mr and Mrs K thought it was a wonderful idea.

      Jean Ann was a month old before she was brought home from Boston so Herself had been gone eight weeks complete.

      ‘Milking it for all she's worth,’ Fidelma said. ‘Well, I suppose it'll be her last time.’

      We lined them all up outside the door like a guard of honour for her homecoming and young Joe carried baby Jean in from the car.

      Danny Walsh said, ‘Mrs K's done all right out of this. Your Man gave her a diamond bracelet, and when she feels up to it she's going on a trip, anywhere in the world she fancies.’

      Gabe Nolan said, ‘But here's the best bit. The lady friend only went and sent her flowers. A great big bouquet of roses that nearly filled the room. How about that for front?’

      Fidelma said, ‘See what I mean, Brennan? They're the best of friends, Miss Swanson and Mrs K. They're in cahoots.’

      I said, ‘I wouldn't believe everything Gabe Nolan told me. It could have been anybody sent her flowers.’

      She said, ‘Will you ask her or will I?’

      We went up to the nursery to give Jean her bottle. The nearest I could say, she had a look of Kick about her. Poor Jean. That's how we always talked about her. ‘Like Kick but fairer, and a look of Joseph Patrick about her when she smiles.’

      Mrs K said, ‘Now, dear hearts, I'm going to take a little nap, but later on I want to see the weight charts and bring my records up to date.’

      Fidelma said, ‘Oh Mrs Kennedy, we heard you got roses after the baby was born. Is it true? Can you really get roses in February?’

      ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I did get roses, from Miss Swanson and her husband. It was a great extravagance but such a very kind thought. Of course I received letters and cards from so many of Mr Kennedy's business associates.’

      She saw Fidelma's little game.

      We went in convoy to Hyannis as soon as school was out, to the ‘cottage’ as Mrs K called it, though it was hardly a cottage any more. Two big new wings had been built on, and garages and an extra floor, with a deck. I was given the first weekend off, to go on up to Boston and see Margaret's new baby and little Rudolph Valentino. They'd already shortened ‘Ramon’ to ‘Ray’, which Ursie said sounded common. She didn't approve of pacifiers either, but then Ursie had never walked the floor all night with a child cutting his first teeth. Margaret wanted to know all about Miss Swanson.

      She said, ‘You've done all СКАЧАТЬ