Mulligan's Yard Read Online Free PDF Page B

pencil poised.
‘I’m not a lady any more,’ she informed the dressing table. ‘After all, I did say “damn” and “hell” today.’ Perhaps there was hope for her
yet.
    Downstairs, Amy stared at her riding boots while Eliza practised a bit of Chopin. Much as Amy disliked James Mulligan, she had to allow that he had shown some decency in trying to present an
olive branch to Mother. His plans for Pendleton Grange were not settled, had not yet been engraved in stone, but at least he had an eye to the future.
    Mother, deeply embedded in her yesterdays, was not prepared to listen to reason. She saw Mulligan’s proposition as charity, while Amy viewed it as an act of conciliation. Thomas Mulligan,
dead for several months now, had been the owner of the ace of spades. James, his son, had simply inherited his father’s ill-gotten gains. Underneath the mop of black, tangled curls and behind
that sullen face, a corner of conscience seemed to linger.
    What now? wondered Amy. A secretarial course for herself, a job in a stables for Margot, a position in music teaching for Eliza? A little voice inside Amy’s head suggested that all three
girls should go in with Mulligan. She could tackle administration, Eliza might like a place in a string quartet, would, perhaps, play soothing music to the guests at Pendleton Grange during
afternoon tea or just before supper. As for Margot, well, she could make herself useful at organizing outdoor pursuits.
    But there was Mother. Who would want to come home to her sulks after a hard day’s work? The fire breathed again, puffing smoke in the manner of a dragon preparing to belch flames.
Eliza’s sweet music trickled into the soot-laden atmosphere, the clock declared that lunch was a mere fifteen minutes from now.
    Margot fell in at the door. Amy grinned. There was no real need for timepieces at Caldwell Farm, since Margot’s stomach was always on red alert at lunch, tea and supper.
    ‘It was amazing, truly wonderful,’ cried Margot. ‘He had to put his arm right inside the cow, tie a sort of rope thing to the calf’s hoofs, then pull like blazes. And
there it was, a whole cow in miniature. I was there, I saw everything.’
    Amy shook her head gleefully. Margot often happened to be around when something unusual was happening.
    ‘Of course, Mr Mulligan never said a word, strange man. Just took off his coat and got stuck in.’ She giggled. ‘The farmer said that the calf took one look at Mr
Mulligan’s face and decided that this was a grim world. That was why it took so long to be born.’ She paused for breath. ‘Actually, I like Mr Mulligan. He’s very
good-looking, almost handsome, I’d say. There’s something about a man who frowns a lot. What do you think, Amy?’
    ‘I think you and I should get cleaned up,’ said Amy.
    Margot, to whom dirt clung like glue, glanced down at herself. ‘Gosh,’ she hooted. ‘I must pong like a midden.’ She smiled her wonderful smile before wandering off in the
direction of soap and water. Amy got up and followed the youngest towards the bathroom. Like Mother, she was beginning to wonder what would happen to them all.

Three
    ‘I don’t know who the blooming heck he thinks he is.’ Tilly Walsh’s several chins shivered with indignation. A small amount of colour was paying a brief
visit to suet-pudding skin, twin circles of red anger situated just below brightened button-eyes. ‘Carrying on as if he’s somebody, throwing his flaming weight about.’ She
sniffed, causing her chest to expand even further until it threatened to burst right out of her blouse. Had the sisters been in the presence of an audience, someone might have made a comment about
weight being thrown about, because the Walsh ladies were massive.
    ‘I miss Mr Burton-Massey,’ agreed Mona Walsh, anxious, as always, to keep both peace and pace with her older sister. ‘All you got was your quarterly visit and a couple of quid
for a night out. Did us proud,