The Bright One by Elvi Rhodes Page B

fearful whenever she heard reports of the air raids in England.
    Then, without warning, the two of them had turned up on a week’s leave, and confessed that it was embarkation leave.
    â€˜Where are they sending you?’ she demanded.
    â€˜We don’t know,’ Patrick said. ‘It could be anywhere: Italy, Egypt – who knows?’
    â€˜But if we did know we wouldn’t tell you,’ Colum said. ‘It’s not allowed.’
    â€˜Wherever it is, we’ll get a bit of money to you,’ Patrick assured her. ‘There are ways of doing it.’
    Quite suddenly she had made up her mind that she wouldn’t take it.
    â€˜I’m grateful,’ she said. ‘But I can manage. Save all you can, then you’ll have money to set yourselves up when the war’s over.’ She’d been adamant, and they’d given in.
    She knew by now that they’d been sent to Burma, to the Fourteenth Army; ‘the Forgotten Army’, they called it. But not forgotten by me, she thought. Never by me. She gathered and treasured every piece of news, little though there was.
    Every so often a thin, blue airmail letter would arrive. Sometimes, after an interval, two came together. The letters were always signed by both of them and they told her little, but at least she knew they were alive. She read each letter a dozen times, then added it to the ones from Kieran in her treasure box. She wrote to the twins, and to Kieran, every week, and to Kathleen once a fortnight.
    Breda was not keen to take the message to Miss Glenda. According to Moira she was a dragon.
    â€˜Can’t Moira write a note, Mammy, and I’ll push it through the letter box?’ she asked.
    â€˜I’m not writing any note,’ Moira said.
    â€˜In any case, an apology is best made face to face,’ Molly said.
    â€˜Well then, isn’t it Moira’s face should be making it?’ Breda objected. ‘It’s pot my fault!’
    â€˜I know that, Breda. Just be a good girl and do it. And don’t forget to ask her if there’s anything you can do to help.’
    â€˜But don’t expect her to pay you for it,’ Moira put in. ‘She’s too mean to draw breath!’
    Breda hesitated outside the hairdresser’s shop, then pushed the door open and went in. She was met by a cloud of warm air, heavily scented with the cheap perfume of shampoos and setting lotions. How lovely, she thought, breathing deeply. Miss Glenda kept her waiting while she tied up her client in a pink hairnet and put her under the dryer, then she turned to her.
    â€˜I’ve come about Moira,’ Breda said quickly. ‘She’s sorry, she can’t come back today. She’s . . . indisposed.’
    â€˜Indisposed, is it?’ Miss Glenda said angrily. ‘May I ask in what way she is indisposed?’
    Breda searched her mind for the answer. ‘I think she’s emotionally indisposed,’ she said.
    Miss Glenda stared at her. ‘ Emotionally indisposed ? And what might that mean?’
    â€˜She’s upset,’ Breda said.
    â€˜Upset! And what about me? Isn’t every bit of the work to fall on me? Why wouldn’t I be upset? Tell me that!’
    â€˜Mammy said I should ask you would you be wanting me to lend a hand?’
    Breda made the offer reluctantly and was much relieved when it was refused.
    â€˜You can tell your sister she had better be here at eight o’clock in the morning or ’twill be the worse for her!’ Miss Glenda threatened.
    Walking back, Breda met Moira on her way to post the letter to Barry Devlin.
    â€˜You should put “SWALK” on the back of the envelope,’ Breda said. ‘It means “sealed With a loving kiss”.’
    â€˜I know what it means,’ Moira said. ‘It’s childish! Aren’t I a grown woman?’
    She had composed a letter she felt would move a heart of stone, one which Barry