remember agreeing to it.’
‘Of course yer agreed to it, girl. Yer just weren’t listening to yerself when yer said it. And I’ll say here and now, with me hand on me heart, that I think it’s real magam … er, manig … er, real good of yer.’
‘What yer were trying to say, sunshine, is that it’s magnanimous of me.’
‘There yer are, yer see, you think ye’re that as well! And that’s another reason why yer make a better hostess than me – yer know all the big words.’
‘For the life of me, sunshine, I can’t see what big words have got to do with a party.’
‘Well, it’s like this, yer see, girl. They say God madeeverybody good at something. To you He gave the gift of words, to me He gave the gift of craftiness. And they’ll both come in useful at our party. When you’re handing the plates of sandwiches around, all yer’ve got to do is throw in a few of those big words and they’ll be that flabbergasted they won’t notice the sandwiches are brawn, and not turkey.’
Mary couldn’t hold out any longer and she shook with laughter. What could you do with someone who had an answer for everything? With tears running down her cheeks, she answered herself. You could have a party for her, that’s what.
The knock on the front door had Mary pushing her chair back as she wiped her eyes. ‘Who on earth can this be?’
‘Unfortunately, girl, God didn’t give me the gift of seeing through walls, so I’m afraid the only way yer’ll find out is to open the bleedin’ door.’
When Mary saw who her visitor was, her smile widened. ‘Hello, Molly, get yerself inside out of the cold.’
‘It’s yerself, then, Mary? Sure, haven’t I been knocking so long I was beginning to think there was no one at home.’ It was ten years since Molly Moynihan left the shores of Ireland but the lovely lilting accent was as strong as ever. She was a tall woman, well built, with a shock of light gingery hair, pale blue eyes and a face that was never far from a smile. As she stepped into the hall she peered down at Mary, concern in her blue eyes. ‘Have yer been crying, me darlin’?’
‘I’m having an attack of hysterics, Molly, which means I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.’ Mary winked at the woman who had lived in the house opposite for ten years and was a good friend. ‘And as yer might know, it’s me mate what’s brought about this state of affairs. She’s in there now, but take my advice and don’t mention the word Christmas if yer know what’s good for yer.’
Amy’s voice came through to them. ‘Ay, I heard that!Don’t you be blackening my name, Mary Nightingale, or I’ll have yer up for slander.’
Molly was laughing as Mary pushed her into the living room. ‘Oh, it’s yerself, Amy Hanley. And what mischief has the good Lord allowed yer to be up to now?’
Amy spread out her hands, a real hard-done by look on her face. ‘I can’t believe anyone can be as ungrateful as this one. I did her a big favour by sharing me great knowledge and experience with her, and do I get any thanks in return? Do I heckerslike! A load of abuse, that’s what I get. I tell yer what, Molly, it puts yer off helping people. They take yer kindness and throw it back in yer face.’
‘Me heart bleeds for yer, so it does.’ Molly pulled out a chair and sat facing Amy. ‘And it’s surprised I am that yer best friend doesn’t appreciate yer kindness. What was it yer were offering that she threw back in yer face?’
‘Don’t ask, Molly, or yer’ll live to regret it.’ Mary got in quickly before her friend. ‘I’ll tell yer how crafty this one is. She’s sitting there looking all angelic, as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, but behind that mask she’s dead devious. I’ll tell yer the story, word for word, and yer can judge for yerself. It started off with her coming in to scrounge a cup of tea and get a warm by my fire because she’s too mean to have one of her own …’
Molly and
‘Of course yer agreed to it, girl. Yer just weren’t listening to yerself when yer said it. And I’ll say here and now, with me hand on me heart, that I think it’s real magam … er, manig … er, real good of yer.’
‘What yer were trying to say, sunshine, is that it’s magnanimous of me.’
‘There yer are, yer see, you think ye’re that as well! And that’s another reason why yer make a better hostess than me – yer know all the big words.’
‘For the life of me, sunshine, I can’t see what big words have got to do with a party.’
‘Well, it’s like this, yer see, girl. They say God madeeverybody good at something. To you He gave the gift of words, to me He gave the gift of craftiness. And they’ll both come in useful at our party. When you’re handing the plates of sandwiches around, all yer’ve got to do is throw in a few of those big words and they’ll be that flabbergasted they won’t notice the sandwiches are brawn, and not turkey.’
Mary couldn’t hold out any longer and she shook with laughter. What could you do with someone who had an answer for everything? With tears running down her cheeks, she answered herself. You could have a party for her, that’s what.
The knock on the front door had Mary pushing her chair back as she wiped her eyes. ‘Who on earth can this be?’
‘Unfortunately, girl, God didn’t give me the gift of seeing through walls, so I’m afraid the only way yer’ll find out is to open the bleedin’ door.’
When Mary saw who her visitor was, her smile widened. ‘Hello, Molly, get yerself inside out of the cold.’
‘It’s yerself, then, Mary? Sure, haven’t I been knocking so long I was beginning to think there was no one at home.’ It was ten years since Molly Moynihan left the shores of Ireland but the lovely lilting accent was as strong as ever. She was a tall woman, well built, with a shock of light gingery hair, pale blue eyes and a face that was never far from a smile. As she stepped into the hall she peered down at Mary, concern in her blue eyes. ‘Have yer been crying, me darlin’?’
‘I’m having an attack of hysterics, Molly, which means I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.’ Mary winked at the woman who had lived in the house opposite for ten years and was a good friend. ‘And as yer might know, it’s me mate what’s brought about this state of affairs. She’s in there now, but take my advice and don’t mention the word Christmas if yer know what’s good for yer.’
Amy’s voice came through to them. ‘Ay, I heard that!Don’t you be blackening my name, Mary Nightingale, or I’ll have yer up for slander.’
Molly was laughing as Mary pushed her into the living room. ‘Oh, it’s yerself, Amy Hanley. And what mischief has the good Lord allowed yer to be up to now?’
Amy spread out her hands, a real hard-done by look on her face. ‘I can’t believe anyone can be as ungrateful as this one. I did her a big favour by sharing me great knowledge and experience with her, and do I get any thanks in return? Do I heckerslike! A load of abuse, that’s what I get. I tell yer what, Molly, it puts yer off helping people. They take yer kindness and throw it back in yer face.’
‘Me heart bleeds for yer, so it does.’ Molly pulled out a chair and sat facing Amy. ‘And it’s surprised I am that yer best friend doesn’t appreciate yer kindness. What was it yer were offering that she threw back in yer face?’
‘Don’t ask, Molly, or yer’ll live to regret it.’ Mary got in quickly before her friend. ‘I’ll tell yer how crafty this one is. She’s sitting there looking all angelic, as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, but behind that mask she’s dead devious. I’ll tell yer the story, word for word, and yer can judge for yerself. It started off with her coming in to scrounge a cup of tea and get a warm by my fire because she’s too mean to have one of her own …’
Molly and
Similar Books
