had to go running to Neil anytimeshe needed money?
So much was changing, with the eighties just around the corner. The way things were going, it seemed only a matter of time before married couples would be able to get contraceptives from their doctors. Not that Sarah would ever be looking for those, of course: the more children they had, the better. But she’d try to keep her job too, for as long as she could.
Of course, she had to get pregnant first.
She returned the empty laundry basket to the bathroom and went outside to cut the back lawn. She was married to a gardener who kept everyone else’s grounds looking lovely and never gave a minute’s attention to his own. Some days she spent more time in the garden than in the house, but she enjoyed it as long as the weather held out.
Pushing the mower up and down in neat stripes, she thought about the woman who’d sent her the book. Impossible to know how she’d received Sarah’s letter, when she hadn’t sent a word in response. Mind you, the book was probably response enough.
Take that
, it said.
Read it and see what I’m talking about.
And in fairness, Sarah probably
should
have read it before she’d protested at the review. She’d begin it this evening, now that she’d finished
The Girl with Green Eyes.
Really, she couldn’t see what all the fuss had been about. Certainly Edna O’Brien’s writing was a little risqué in parts, but to have banned it, and even burnt copies of it, seemed a bit harsh.
She raked up the cut grass and added it to the compost heap. But even if
To Kill with Kindness
wasn’t very good, there had still been no call for Helen O’Dowd to be so mean about it. She could surely have found one single positive thing to say, even if it was only to compliment the characters’ names, for goodness’ sake.
She returned the mower to the shed and walked into the house, stepping out of her gardening shoes at the back door. Time for a quick shower before Neil got home. As she put a foot on the first stair, the phone rang.
‘Sarah,’ her father said, his voicethick with fear, ‘it’s your mother.’
Helen
D ear Miss O’Dowd
Thank you for sending me
To Kill with Kindness
last week. No doubt you thought I shouldn’t have criticised your review without reading it, and you were quite right. And now that I have read it, I have to be honest and say that it didn’t really grab me. I found the plot a little thin, and none of the characters particularly appealed to me, especially the detective, whom I found slightly full of himself.
I still feel, though, that you could have been a bit kinder towards it, maybe held back a little in your review, even if you couldn’t see any positives. I suppose I feel empathy for the author because I’m writing a book myself, and would hate to get a bad review like yours for it. Maybe when you’re writing your next review, if you can’t think of anything good to say, say nothing. Just a thought.
Thank you again for the book. I’m assuming you don’t want it back, and unless I hear to the contrary from you in thenext week I’ll bring it to my local charity shop. They’re always grateful for donations.
Yours sincerely
,
Sarah Flannery (Mrs)
Helen read the letter with growing irritation. What a ninny she was.
If you can’t think of anything good to say, say nothing
. How could Helen write a review if she said nothing? Such a load of bullshit – and what was with the ridiculous purple ink?
She could just imagine Mrs Goody-Two-Shoes Flannery throwing compliments around like snuff at a wake, spreading happiness wherever she went, never a bad word spoken about anything or anyone. If Helen had to button her lip every time she felt like saying something that might upset someone, she’d be struck dumb most of the time.
Mind you, there were plenty who’d probably prefer her that way. ‘You have a mouth on you,’ Breen had told her once, ‘that would scour toilets.’ As if he couldn’t let fly
So much was changing, with the eighties just around the corner. The way things were going, it seemed only a matter of time before married couples would be able to get contraceptives from their doctors. Not that Sarah would ever be looking for those, of course: the more children they had, the better. But she’d try to keep her job too, for as long as she could.
Of course, she had to get pregnant first.
She returned the empty laundry basket to the bathroom and went outside to cut the back lawn. She was married to a gardener who kept everyone else’s grounds looking lovely and never gave a minute’s attention to his own. Some days she spent more time in the garden than in the house, but she enjoyed it as long as the weather held out.
Pushing the mower up and down in neat stripes, she thought about the woman who’d sent her the book. Impossible to know how she’d received Sarah’s letter, when she hadn’t sent a word in response. Mind you, the book was probably response enough.
Take that
, it said.
Read it and see what I’m talking about.
And in fairness, Sarah probably
should
have read it before she’d protested at the review. She’d begin it this evening, now that she’d finished
The Girl with Green Eyes.
Really, she couldn’t see what all the fuss had been about. Certainly Edna O’Brien’s writing was a little risqué in parts, but to have banned it, and even burnt copies of it, seemed a bit harsh.
She raked up the cut grass and added it to the compost heap. But even if
To Kill with Kindness
wasn’t very good, there had still been no call for Helen O’Dowd to be so mean about it. She could surely have found one single positive thing to say, even if it was only to compliment the characters’ names, for goodness’ sake.
She returned the mower to the shed and walked into the house, stepping out of her gardening shoes at the back door. Time for a quick shower before Neil got home. As she put a foot on the first stair, the phone rang.
‘Sarah,’ her father said, his voicethick with fear, ‘it’s your mother.’
Helen
D ear Miss O’Dowd
Thank you for sending me
To Kill with Kindness
last week. No doubt you thought I shouldn’t have criticised your review without reading it, and you were quite right. And now that I have read it, I have to be honest and say that it didn’t really grab me. I found the plot a little thin, and none of the characters particularly appealed to me, especially the detective, whom I found slightly full of himself.
I still feel, though, that you could have been a bit kinder towards it, maybe held back a little in your review, even if you couldn’t see any positives. I suppose I feel empathy for the author because I’m writing a book myself, and would hate to get a bad review like yours for it. Maybe when you’re writing your next review, if you can’t think of anything good to say, say nothing. Just a thought.
Thank you again for the book. I’m assuming you don’t want it back, and unless I hear to the contrary from you in thenext week I’ll bring it to my local charity shop. They’re always grateful for donations.
Yours sincerely
,
Sarah Flannery (Mrs)
Helen read the letter with growing irritation. What a ninny she was.
If you can’t think of anything good to say, say nothing
. How could Helen write a review if she said nothing? Such a load of bullshit – and what was with the ridiculous purple ink?
She could just imagine Mrs Goody-Two-Shoes Flannery throwing compliments around like snuff at a wake, spreading happiness wherever she went, never a bad word spoken about anything or anyone. If Helen had to button her lip every time she felt like saying something that might upset someone, she’d be struck dumb most of the time.
Mind you, there were plenty who’d probably prefer her that way. ‘You have a mouth on you,’ Breen had told her once, ‘that would scour toilets.’ As if he couldn’t let fly
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