When All Is Said(62)
‘Mr Grigson has asked I tell you that bank drafts can only be done before three o’clock. On this occasion he has signed it but will not be in a position to do so again.’
My mouth gaped as I struggled to find some kinder words for the man too afraid to come and tell me all that himself, choosing instead to terrify this beauty before me.
‘Sure a man would have to start queuing at one o’clock to do that,’ I said, with a laugh that I realised, as soon as it had left my lips, was more sarcastic than the jovial tone I’d intended.
She busied herself with the bank draft and my book, putting them into an envelope. As she passed them back across the counter, the light caught her eye and I saw the tears welling up. I froze. Angry bank managers were no problem, but crying beauties? I was dealing with a whole different field of oats now.
‘Ah lads,’ I said, my fingers stretching in as far as they could go under the brass bars. ‘Look I’m sorry. I didn’t mean … I’ve an awful tongue on me sometimes.’
The backs of her hands tried to stem the flow bulging in her eyes, but she was losing the battle.
‘I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s not you,’ she said looking up, attempting a smile. ‘It’s just all so new and … well…’ her face began to crumble again.
I had no handkerchief to gallantly produce. Well, I did, but let’s just say it would have made the situation worse, it had been a while since washday. I looked about me to see who was watching. Nancy, bloody, Regan. She was loving this, itching to get out of the place to tell the world that Maurice Hannigan was harassing innocent women.
‘Listen, I can’t leave you like this,’ I said, ‘I’ll hold this crowd off for a minute while you go powder your nose or whatever.’
‘I can’t be doing that, sure they’d have me fired.’
‘What’ll he know? I’ll tell him I asked you for some more lodgement dockets or something.’
She bit her lip, considering my proposition.
‘Two seconds, so,’ she said, and was gone.
I smiled at Nancy as she left the counter, giving me a good long stare before tottering away in those heels of hers.
Sadie was back before I knew it, tissue in hand, looking a sight better.
‘Thanks,’ she said hopping back up on her stool.
‘All better now, what? So are you ready for this lot, so?’ I inclined my head to the queue to my rear. ‘I can’t promise they’ll be as charming as myself, now.’
She nodded and gave me a small vulnerable smile that stayed with me long after I’d left the counter and gone back to work the fields. That evening my sisters looked at me like I was ailing as I played all the wrong cards in the game Jenny dealt. Mind you, their concern didn’t stop them filling their pockets with my pennies. The following day I seemed incapable of doing anything right what with me putting too much milk in my tea, tripping over the front door step that had been there since the day I was born and burning my hand on the range when I put it down, thinking it was the kitchen table. By Sunday I knew I had no other choice but to go back. After the dinner, I announced my intentions of visiting the bank again the following Thursday, giving the family enough time to gather their few coppers together.
By Thursday I stood before her with a fresh handkerchief in my pocket and five bank books in my hands.
‘Hello,’ she said, quietly, a little embarrassed smile rising to her face once she recognised me.
Now, son, you know I’m not one for sentimentality but I swear to God the woman just took my breath away. I mean she looked no different from the first time I saw her, granted there were no tears, but this time, this time it was like she had multiplied all of that gorgeousness by ten. I reached inside myself, past my shock and from somewhere pulled out my voice.
‘Grand day, now. It must be hard on a day like this to be cooped up in here with the sun splitting the trees.’
‘Oh, aye. What I wouldn’t give to be out for a stroll right now.’ She laughed, looked at me ever so quickly, took the books I offered and got stuck into the counting straight away. I ran a hand over my flattened hair.
‘Maurice,’ I said, ‘the name’s Maurice Hannigan.’
‘Well, Maurice,’ she said looking up from the books, ‘you Hannigans are great savers.’
She looked below again, writing and totting away. And then, I heard her name for the first time:
‘Sadie McDonagh,’ she said, her face flashing up briefly to mine.
‘Things seem better today … Sadie. I mean, I’m glad to see you’re looking better today … I mean … it’s not so busy.’
She looked up and laughed again. Pitch-perfect laughter. Her work completed, she tapped the books efficiently together on her counter and passed them back to me.
‘Things are much better, thank you, Maurice.’
I took the books and paused for a second wondering if now was my chance. And as my eyes seemed unable to lift to her face, staring at the black tiles instead, I wondered where my charm had decided to feck off to. I tipped the books to my forehead, and had begun to walk away when she said:
‘See you again next Thursday, I suppose?’
‘Well,’ I said, stepping back to face her fully now, ‘unless, that is you’d like to take a stroll with me later. Maybe even a bite to eat?’ There he was, Mr Confident, back to save the day.